100 


THE  WANDERER'S  NIGHT  SONG.* 


THOU  who  the  child  of  Heaven  art, 
Who  transports  and  sorrows  stillest, 

Who  the  doubly  wretched  heart 
Doubly  with  thy  comfort  fillcst. 

Ah,  when  will  my  yearning  cease  ! 
What  avails  or  joy  or  grief? 
Blessed  peace, 

Bring,  ah  bring  my  heart  relief! 

"*  This  piece  was  written  February  12th,  1T7G,  as  a  note  to  Frau  von 
Stein. — See  Schb'll's  Goethe's  Bricfe  an  Frau  von  Stein. 


101 


TO   THE   MOON* 


OVER  vale  and  grove  thy  glance 

Still  and  hazy  gleams, 
Tliou'lt  dissolve  my  soul  perchance 

In  thy  peaceful  beams. 

Soothingly  thy  glances  lie 

O'er  the  meadow  spread, 
As  the  light  of  friendship's  eye 

O'er  my  fate  is  shed. 

Echoes  of  the  past  I  hear 
Joyous  days  and  sad, 

*  A  young  lady,  named  Von  Lassberg.  believing  herself  deserted  by  her 
lover,  drowned  herself  in  the  Urn,  in  1778.  The  incident  gave  rise  to  this 
poem.  As  originally  written  and  sent  to  Frau  von  Stein,  in  January,  1778, 
it  was  much  shorter  and  differed  considerably  in  expression. 


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THE 


MINOR    POETRY 


GOETHE. 


A   SELECTION   FROM   HIS 


SONGS,  BALLADS,  AND  OTHER  LESSER  POEMS. 


TRANSLATED 


BY 


WILLIAM  GRASETT  THOMAS. 


PHILADELPHIA: 
PUBLISHED  BY  E.  H.  BUTLER  &  CO. 

1859. 


Entered,  according  to  Act  of  Congress,  in  the  year  1859, 

BY    E.    H.    BUTLER    &    CO., 
In  the  Clerk's  Office  of  the  District  Court  for  the  Eastern  District  of  Pennsylvania. 


P72-OZG 

/^T> 


CONTENTS. 


INTRODUCTION, 
Frederica, 
Lotte, 
Lili, 


PAGE 

xvii 
xxiii 
xxvii 
xxxi 


MINOR    POETRY. 


A  Simile,  . 

Deprecation,  .... 

To  the  Friendly,  . 

FREDERICA. 

Welcome  and  Farewell, 

Verses  sent  with  a  Painted  Ribbon, 

To  the  Chosen, 

On  a  Tree  in  the  Wood  near  Sesenheim, 

To  Frederica, 

To  Frederica,       .... 

A  Gloomy  Morn, 

Frederica,  . 

To  Sesenheim. 


37 
38 
39 

43 
45 
47 
49 
50 
53 
56 
58 
59 


f7i84!132 


Xll  CONTENTS. 

PAGE 

At  Table, .61 

When  I  was  in  Saarbriicken,           .             .             .             .  62 

LOTTE. 

The  Ugly  Face, 67 

The  Pilgrim's  Morning  Song,           .             .             .             .  69 

LILI. 

New  Love,  New  Life,     .            .            .            .            .  .75 

To  Belinda, .            .  77 
Upon  the  Lake,  .......        79 

From  the  Mountain,              .             .             .             .             .  81 

To  a  Golden  Heart  which  he  wore  on  his  Neck,             .  .        82 

Sadness,        .......  84 

Lili's  Menagerie,  ......        86 

Lili, 94 

FRAU   VON   STEIN. 

Chapped  Lips,    .            .            .            .            .            .  .97 

Night  Thoughts,       .             .             .             .             .             .  99 

,    The  Wanderer's  Night  Song,      .             .             .             .  .100 

To  the  Moon,   .......  101 

To  the  New  Year,  1779,             .             .             .             .  .104 

A  Midnight  Fairy  Song,       .             .             .             .             .  105 

Here  Tracing  Nature,  &c.,         .....      106 

To  Lida,       .......  107 

Nearness,            .             .             .             .             .             .  .108 

The  Chosen  Stone,  .             .             .             .             .             .  109 

Forever,              .             .             .             .             .             .  .110 

Philomela,    .             .             .             .             .             .             .  Ill 

FROM  WILHELM   MEISTER. 

Mignon, .             .             .             .             .             .             .  .115 

Mignon,        .                           .             .             .             .             .  117 

Mignon,.             .             .             .             .             .             .  .118 


CONTENTS.  Xlii 

PAGE 

Mignon,        .                          .....  120 

The  Minstrel,     .             .             .             .             .             .  .121 

Grief  in  Solitude,      .             .             .             .             .             .  124 

The  Bread  of  Tears,      .             .             .             .             .  .126 

Fragments  of  Song,             .             .             .             .             .  127 

Philine, 128 

Philine's  Song,          .             .             .             .             .             .  130 

The  Baron  and  the  Poet,            .             .             .             .  .132 

The  Wanderer's  Song,          .             .             .             .             .  134 

FROM   FAUST. 

The  Song  of  the  Archangels,     .            ..             .             .  .139 

The  King  in  Thule,  .             .             .             .             .             .  141 

Gretchen,  .......      143 

Mephistopheles  Sings,          .....  146 

LEIPZIG  POEMS. 

The  Beautiful  Night,      .             .             .             .  .      149 

Girlish  Wishes, 151 

Change,.             .             .             .             .             .             .  .152 

Love's  Grave,           .            .            .            -            .            .  153 

Motives,               .             .             .             .             .            -.  .154 

Joy, 155 

Joys  and  Dreams,           .             .             .             .             .  .156 

Two  Threats,           .            .            .            .            .            .  157 

SONGS. 

The  Farewell,     .             .             .             .             .             .  .161 

To  the  Distant,         .             .             .             .             .             .  163 

By  the  River,     .             .             .             .             .             .  .164 

March, 165 

The  Shepherd, .167 

The  Huntsman's  Evening  Song,      .             .             .  169 

The  Prude,                                   .             .            ,             .  .171 


xiv  CONTENT  S. 


PAGE 

173 


The  Convert,  .... 

In  Summer,        .  ^ 

May  Song,    .  17G 

The  Spirit's  Greeting.,     . 

Night,           ...  180 

Nearness  of  the  Beloved, 

ToLina,       .             ,             .  184 

May  Song,  ]  85 

Self-Deception,          .  18S 

November  Song, 

Sympathy,    ...  191 

April,  or  Speaking  Eyes, 

With  a  Gold  Chain,              ,  194 

The  Wild  Rose, 195 

The  Shepherd's  Lament,      ,             .             ,  197 

The  West  Wind, ,  1.9.9 

Separation,  .....  201 

The  Thief,          .......      202 

Life  ;  or,  The  Game  of  Goose,         ,             ,  203 

SONNETS   AND   ELEGIES. 

She  Writes,         .            ,             .             ,             .             .  ,207 

She  Writes  Again,   ..,.,.  209 

She  Cannot  Cease,          .             .             .             .             .  .210 

The  Maiden  Speaks,              .             .             .             ,             .  211 

The  Resolution, .             ,             ,             .             .             .  .212 

Friendly  Meeting,    ......  213 

Growth,.  .......      214 

Warning,      .......  215 

Elegy, 21G 

Elegy,                                                                           .  218 

Elegy,     .             ,  .      220 


CONTENTS  XV 

PAGE 

BALLADS. 

The  Erlking,             ......  223 

The  Beautiful  Flower,    .             .             .             .             .  .226 

The  Violet,  .......  232 

Traveller  and  Peasant  Maid,      .             .             .             .  .234 

The  Dance  of  the  Dead,      .....  239 

The  Youth  and  the  Mill-stream,             .             .             .  .242 

Distant  Influence,      ......  246 

Goodman  and  Good  wife,  .....      249 

The  Fisherman,        ......  252 

The  Trusty  Eckart,         .             .             .             .             .  .254 

The  Ruined  Castle.  ......  258 

The  Wizard's  Apprentice,          .....      261 

PARABLES. 

Poesy,  .  ...  269 

The  Frogs,          .......  270 

The  Buyers,  .  .  .  .  .  .  271 

Poems,   ........  272 

Legend,        .......  274 

Cupid  and  Psyche,         ......  276 

The  Drops  of  Nectar,  .....  277 

MISCELLANEOUS. 

Blindman's  Buff,             .             .             .             .             .  .281 

Jack's  Alive,            ......  283 

Rescue,  ........      285 

Vanitas,  Vanitatum  Vanitas,            ....  287 

Open  House,       .             .             .            .             .             .  .290 

A  Multiform  Lover,              .             .             .             .             .  294 

The  Happy  Couple,        .             .             .             .             .  .298 

The  Spring  Oracle,  .             .^           .             .             .             .  303 

Coptic  Song,       .             .             .             .             .             .  .306 

Another,       .             .             .             .             .             .             .  308 


xvi  CONTENTS. 

PAGE 

Gellert's  Monument  by  Oeser,    ......      309 

Calm  at  Sea,             ....  310 

Anacreon's  Grave,          .             .             .                          .  .311 

The  Brothers,           .             .             .             .             .             .  312 

Warning,            .             .             .             .             .             .  .313 

EPIGRAMS. 

An  Original,             .             .             .             .             .  317 

Society,  ........      317 

Example,      .             .             .             .             .             .             .  318 

To  the  Obtrusive,           .             .             .             .             .  .318 

Reciprocity,               .                          .  319 

Broad  as  Long,  .....  .      319 

Memento,      .......  320 

Another,              .             .             .             .             .             .  .320 

Rule  of  Life, 321 

Behavior,            .             .             .             .             .             .  .      321 

The  Best,     .......  322 

Humility,            .             .             .             .             .             .  .322 

None  of  All,            ......  323 

Stipulation,         .             .             .             .             .             .  .323 

Reversed,     .......  324 

Equality,            .             .             .             .             .             .  .324 

Ideal,            .......  325 

Pardonable,        .             .             .             .             .             .  .325 

Admonition,              .             .             .             .             .             .  327 

Contradiction,     .             .             .             .             .             .  .327 

Excuse,        .            .            .            .            .            .            .  327 

From  the  Zahme  Xenien,  .....      328 

From  the  Xenien,    .             .             .             .             .             .  331 

The  Empiric,      .......      333 

The  Chinese  in  Rome,          .....  335 


INTRODUCTION. 


TRANSLATIONS  of  the  lyrical  poems  of  Goethe  have 
often  been  laid  before  the  English  and  American  ad 
mirers  of  German  poetry ;  but  hitherto  only  in  connec 
tion  with  those  of  other  German  poets.*  The  present 
selection,  which  is  devoted  to  him  alone,  is,  it  is  believed, 
also  numerically  greater  than  any  that  has  preceded  it. 

It  would  not,  however,  have  been  out  of  place,  even  if 
it  had  only  traversed  the  same  ground  that  its  predeces 
sors  had  passed  over.  To  those,  indeed,  who  are  unac 
quainted  with  the  original,  two  versions  are  not  better 

*  Just  as  this  work  is  about  to  go  to  press,  the  first  copies  of  a  recently 
issued  volume  of  Goethe's  poems,  by  Aytoun  and  Martin,  have  reached 
this  country. 


XV111  INTRODUCTION. 

than  one;  but  translations  are  rarely  read,  except  by 
those  who  have  some  knowledge  of  the  work  in  its  pri 
mary  form ;  and  to  these  there  is  value  in  every  new 
attempt  to  express,  in  their  own  familiar  language,  the 
beauty  of  sentiment  which  they  have  admired  in  another, 
however  moderate  the  success  of  the  attempt  may  be. 

"When  we  read  the  lighter  poetry  of  a  strange  language, 
we  commonly  feel  a  desire  to  attempt  to  render  into  our 
own  those  pieces,  which  are  especially  recommended  to 
us  by  some  new  and  beautiful  thought,  or  by  the  happy 
expression  of  feelings  that  have  lain  long  unuttcred  in 
our  own  minds : 

"  Thoughts  that  we  have  cherished  long 
Intermingled  with  the  song." 

Many  of  the  present  translations  originated  in  a  simi 
lar  feeling,  before  any  intention  had  been  entertained  of 
venturing  upon  the  hazardous  task  of  preparing  an  Eng 
lish  version  of  the  great  German  Bard  for  publication. 

The  songs  and  other  poems,  which  relate  to  Frederica 
Brion  and  to  Lili,  were  among  those  to  which  attention 
was  naturally  directed,  by  the  perusal  of  the  poet's  auto- 


INTRODUCTION.  XIX 

biography.  Mr.  Lewes's  Life  of  Goethe  had  not  yet  been 
made  public,  and  the  information  which  could  be  ob 
tained  in  the  English  language  concerning  the  first  of 
these  persons  was  limited  to  the  account  given  by  Goethe 
himself.  To  gratify  a  perhaps  foolish  curiosity,  and  for 
the  purpose  of  getting  a  thorough  understanding  of  the 
poems  addressed  to  her,  the  publications  which  relate  to 
Frederica  were  obtained  from  Germany.  Mr.  Lewes's  full 
account  of  her  and  others,  in  whom  Goethe  became  in 
terested,  supplies  all  that  could  be  desired  to  be  known 
regarding  them;  but,  for  the  sake  of  illustration,  a  short 
notice  of  these  persons  will  be  given  at  the  end  of  this 
introduction. 

Of  the  poet,  and  of  the  character  of  his  poetry,  the 
translator  will  venture  to  say  but  little.  Criticism  is  so 
high  an  art,  and  in  this  instance  the  subject  of  it  so  ex 
alted,  that  the  ground  would  be  dangerous.  Nor  would 
it  be  worth  while  merely  to  repeat  what  has  been  said  by 
others.  It  will  only  be  remarked,  that  the  poems  in  this 
collection  belong,  for  the  most  part,  to  his  earlier  years  ; 
his  later  lyrical  writings  being  deficient  in  the  warmth 
and  simplicity  which  distinguish  the  productions  of  his 


XX  INTRODUCTION. 

youth.     For  in  this  kind  of  poetry,  experience  and  the 
increase  of  knowledge  are  in  vain, 

Pues  amor  para  ser  sabio 

No  va  &  la  universidad. 
*          #          #  #          * 

Y  asi  en  su  ciencia  verds 
Que  los  que  la  cursan  mas, 
Son  los  que  la  saben  menos. 

Concerning  the  execution  of  the  work,  it  may  be 
observed,  that  the  translator  has  labored  to  be  faithful, 
although,  no  doubt,  it  will  be  found  that  here  and  there 
his  unskilfulness  has  caused  him  to  sacrifice  reason  to 
rhyme. 

The  form  of  verse,  as  wrell  as  the  text,  has  been  ad 
hered  to,  with  but  few  exceptions.  In  those  poems  in 
which  Goethe  made  use  of  the  classical  metres,  the  form 
has  not  been  followed,  because  it  is  usually  considered 
that  those  measures  cannot  be  produced  successfully  in 
English.  And,  indeed,  Goethe  himself  seems  to  have 
doubted,  in  this  respect,  the  capabilities  of  his  own  lan 
guage,  remarking,  in  a  letter  from  Eome,  of  January  10, 


INTRODUCTION.  XXI 

1787,  "  We  meet,  in  our  language,  with  but  few  syllables 
that  are  decidedly  either  long  or  short. '' 

A  very  large  proportion  of  German  poems  (the  excep 
tions  are  scarcely  one  in  a  hundred)  are  double-rhymed. 
This  has  not  been  uniformly  followed,  because  the  dou 
ble  or  female  rhyming  of  German  versification  is  not  of 
choice,  but  of  necessity.  It  is  compelled  by  the  form  of 
the  language.  The  inflection  of  verbs  and  nouns  causes 
the  final  syllables  to  be  short,  while  the  infinitive  of 
every  verb  in  the  language  ends  with  the  unaccented 
syllable  en,  or  with  contractions  of  it,  leaving  but  few 
words  with  which  to  make  common  or  male  rhymes. 
Moreover,  double  rhyming,  which  is  occasionally  an  or 
nament,  when  used  indiscriminately  becomes  a  defect. 
And,  in  addition  to  this,  double  rhymes,  which  are  so 
abundant  in  German,  are,  for  opposite  reasons,  as  scarce 
in  English;  and,  in  attempting  to  employ  them,  the 
temptation  to  unfaithfulness  is  greatly  increased. 

To  the  translations  in  this  volume,  explanatory  notes 
have  been  appended,  wherever  interesting  information 
existed,  or  could  be  obtained ;  and  in  every  instance  the 
information,  it  is  believed,  will  be  found  trustworthy. 


XX11  INTRODUCTION. 

Some  of  the  poems  would  have  required  so  much 
space  for  intelligible  annotation,  that  the  reader  must  be 
referred  elsewhere  for  explanation.  Such  are  the  songs 
of  Mignon  and  the  Harper,  and  the  other  poems  from 
Wilhelm  Meister,  which  cannot  well  be  understood 
without  reading  the  novel  itself.  It  will,  probably,  add 
to  the  interest  in  Mignon  and  her  songs,  to  mention  that 
the  "  original"  of  this  character  wras  Antoinette  Gerold, 
a  relative  of  Schlosser,  who  married  Goethe's  sister. 
This  was  not  known  until  the  publication  of  the  corre 
spondence  between  Goethe  and  F.  H.  Jacobi,  where 
(page  9)  the  editor  states  that  she  was  passionately  at 
tached  to  Goethe  from  her  childhood.  Goethe's  readers 
out  of  Germany  are  generally  unacquainted  with  this 
fact,  and,  as  far  as  the  translator  is  informed,  it  has  never 
been  mentioned  in  any  English  publication  relating  to 
him. 

The  friendship  between  Goethe  and  Frau  von  Stein 
extended  through  so  long  a  period  of  his  life,  that  it 
would  be  impracticable  to  give  shortly  any  account  of  it 
or  her.  The  reader  must  turn  to  Lewes's  Life,  and,  if 
very  curious,  to  Scholl's  correspondence.  To  the  selec- 


INTRODUCTION.  XX111 

tion  from  the  poems  addressed  to  her,  short  notes  are 
added,  which  will  satisfy  most  readers. 

FREDERICA. 

At  the  urgent  request  of  his  father,  Goethe  proceeded 
to  Strassburg  in  the  year  1770,  for  the  purpose  of  continu 
ing  his  studies  in  the  law,  being  then  in  his  twenty- first 
year. 

It  was  during  his  residence  in  that  city,  that  the  first 
of  those  attachments  arose,  which  exercised  so  great  an 
influence  on  his  lyrical  poetry. 

In  company  with  one  or  two  friends,  he  had  visited 
the  various  points  of  interest  around  Strassburg,  and  had 
been  admitted,  through  the  instrumentality  of  one  of 
them,  to  the  intimacy  of  many  neighboring  families. 
Among  these  was  that  of  a  country  clergyman,  living 
some  six  leagues  from  Strassburg,  at  Sesenheim. 

He  there  met  with  two  ladies,  the  youngest  of  whom 
made  on  him  a  deep  impression.  The  name  of  this 
young  person  was  Frederica  Brion,  then,  at  the  time  of 
her  first  acquaintance  with  the  poet,  in  the  autumn  of 
1770,  only  sixteen  years  of  age. 


XXIV  INTRODUCTION. 

It  would  be  useless  to  attempt  a  description  of  Fre- 
derica  to  those  who  have  read  Goethe's  own  account  of 
her,  as  is  probably  the  case  with  all  who  take  an  interest 
in  his  poetry.  That  she  was  as  beautiful  and  artless  as 
he  describes  her,  we  may  readily  believe,  or  she  would 
not  have  so  powerfully  moved  so  remarkable  a  man. 

But  a  few  days  had  elapsed,  before  they  had  acknow 
ledged  the  highest  regard  for  each  other. 

The  relation  had  lasted  about  one  year,  when,  without 
any  reason  that  can  be  discovered  in  his  narrative,  except 
that  its  continuance  would  interfere  with  his  prospects  in 
life,  he  heartlessly  separated  himself  from  her.  He  paid 
her  a  final  visit  at  the  close  of  1771 ;  and,  on  reaching 
Frankfort,  he  wrote  her  a  farewell  letter,  her  answer  to 
which  awakened  in  him  the  keenest  remorse,  but  did  not 
induce  him  to  give  her  any  assurance  of  faithfulness. 

Still,  the  separation  could  not  take  place  without  some 
feelings  of  pain  at  the  time ;  and,  after  the  lapse  of  many 
years,  he  still  thought  and  spoke  of  her,  as  "  one  who 
had  loved  him  more  beautifully  than  he  had  deserved, 
and  more  than  others,  on  whom  he  had  lavished  love  and 
faithfulness."  And  even  at  the  close  of  his  long  life,  the 


INTRODUCTION.  XXV 

memory  of  his  old  love  came  back  to  him  and  subdued 
him.* 

"We  are  told  of  stars  so  remote,  that  if  one  of  them 
should  become  extinct,  its  light  would  still  for  ages  tra 
verse  the  wastes  of  nature  and  irradiate  the  world :  and 
this  beautiful  passion  of  his  early  youth,  extinguished  in 
the  selfish  necessities  of  life,  shed,  like  a  lost  star,  its 
holy  light  upon  his  heart  even  to  the  end  of  his  days. 

He  saw  her  but  once  again,  in  1779,  when  on  his  se 
cond  journey  into  Switzerland.  "I  found  her,"  he  says, 
"but  little  changed,  and  as  friendly,  affectionate,  and 
confiding  as  ever." 

The  parents  of  Frederica  were  poor,  and,  after  their 
death,  her  younger  sister  Sophia  and  herself  kept  for 
their  support  a  children's  school  in  Steinthal.  She  after- 

*  The  secretary  is  now  living,  to  whom  this  part  of  the  Autobiography 
was  dictated,  and  he  remembers  vividly  how  much  affected  Goethe 
seemed  to  be,  as  these  scenes  revisited  his  memory.  He  dictated  walk 
ing  up  and  down  the  room,  with  his  hands  behind  him  ;  but  at  this 
episode  he  often  stopped  in  his  walk,  and  paused  in  the  dictation  ;  then, 
after  a  long  silence,  followed  by  a  deep  sigh,  he  continued  the  narrative 
in  a  lower  tone. — Lewes' 's  Life  of  Goetlie. 

4 


XXV111  INTRODUCTION. 

January  11,  1753,  and,  therefore,  at  this  time  in  her 
twentieth  year,  was  destined  to  exercise  not  a  little  in 
fluence  on  Goethe,  and  on  his  literary  reputation. 

It  was  on  the  evening  of  the  9th  June,  1772,  that 
Goethe  and  herself  met  for  the  first  time  at  a  ball  in  the 
neighborhood  of  Wetzlar.  The  impression  made  on  him 
led  him  to  seek  her  acquaintance,  and,  accordingly,  he 
visited  her  the  next  day.  .  At  this  first  meeting  with 
Lotte,  he  was  not  aware  that  she  was  "  no  longer  free." 
But  this  would  have  made  no  difference,  as  he  had  re 
solved  to  check  any  tendencies  to  new  passion,  and,  for 
getful  of  Frederica,  considered  himself  as  "completely 
free  from  all  ties." 

The  daily  intercourse  with  a  person  of  unusual  beauty, 
and  attractive  in  other  respects,  did  not  fail  to  work  its 
natural  effect.  While  Goethe  lived  happily  in  this  agree 
able,  though  perilous,  relation  of  friendship  with  such  a 
person,  he  did  not  observe  that  a  newr  and  powerful  pas 
sion  was  taking  possession  of  him,  and  threatening  the 
most  serious  consequences  to  his  own  peace,  and  to  his 
duty  to  his  friend  Kestner.  The  latter  and  the  poet  had 
become  the  firmest  friends  ;  and  Kestner  saw  the  grow- 


INTRODUCTION.  XXIX 

ing  intimacy  between  Lotto  and  his  friend,  with  entire 
freedom  from  jealousy.  "  To  Goethe,  the  poet,  whose 
very  calling  was  the  Beautiful,  it  was  natural  here  once 
again  to  love,  and  both  young  men,  while  at  every  in 
stant  they  overcame  the  greatest  dangers  that  friendship 
can  encounter,  bore  witness  to  one  another  of  the  posses 
sion  of  those  noble  qualities,  which  alone  made  it  possi 
ble  to  act  worthily  in  so  difficult  a  situation." — (Gf-oethe 
und  Werther.) 

And  Kestncr  was  justified  in  his  confidence ;  for, 
although  a  most  ardent  attachment  to  Lotte  arose  in 
the  breast  of  his  friend,  yet  when  Goethe  found  that  it 
was  becoming  more  than  he  could  control,  he  quitted 
abruptly  the  scene  of  his  happiness  and  distress.  After 
a  sojourn  at  "Wetzlar  of  four  months,  he  left  it  and  his 
friends,  bidding  them  farewell  in  two  short  and  passion 
ate  notes. 

He  saw  Lotte  once  again  in  November  of  the  same 
year,  for  a  day ;  but  after  that  he  met  her  no  more  for 
nearly  forty  years,  when  he  saw  her  by  accident,  then 
the  mother  of  a  numerous  family.  She  died  in  1828,  at 
the  age  of  seventy-five. 


XXX  INTRODUCTION. 

The  correspondence  between  Goethe  and  herself  and 
her  husband,  was  published  a  few  years  since,  under  the 
title  of  Gf-oetJie  und  Werther,  by  one  of  her  sons. 

Among  the  young  men  whom  Goethe  met  at  Wetzlar. 
was  Charles  William  Jerusalem,  also  an  attache  of  an 
.embassy.  Shortly  after  Goethe's  departure  from  "Wetz 
lar,  Jerusalem  shot  himself,  because  of  a  misplaced  at 
tachment.  Jerusalem's  death,  in  connection  with  his 
own  relation  to  Lotte,  furnished  Goethe  with  the  mate 
rials  for  the  Sorrows  of  Werther.  This  book  deeply  of 
fended  Lotte  and  her  husband,  not  that  it  brought  them 
to  public  notice  ;  but  because  Goethe  therein  represented 
his  own  position  towards  Lotte  very  differently  from 
what  it  really  had  been,  and  because  Kestner's  portrait 
was  painted  in  no  flattering  colours.  He  protested  that 
he  had  offended  without  intention,  and  confessing  his 
fault,  was  forgiven. 

The  poems  addressed  to  Lotte  are  at  most  but  three, 
and  of  these  one  is  in  dispute,  i.  e.  that  entitled  An 
Lottchen.  The  reasons  assigned  by  Diiutzer,  in  his  paper 
G-oethe's  Lotte,  &c.,  for  rejecting  it,  seem  satisfactory,  and 


INTRODUCTION. 

it  lias  therefore  been  omitted  here.  Diintzer  rejects  also 
the  verses  styled  Das  garstige  Cresicht ;  but  the  publica 
tion  of  the  Kestner  letters  has  shown  that  he  is  wrong. 
The  poem  entitled  To  Lina,  which  will  be  found  in  an 
other  place,  is  supposed  by  Yiehoff  to  have  been  also 
addressed  to  Lotte ;  but  this  is  uncertain. 


Li  LI. 

His  passion  for  Charlotte  rapidly  subsided ;  and  Maxi 
milian  e  Laroche  succeeded  to  the  unstable  affections  of 
the  poet.  This  flame,  too,  died  out  in  its  turn,  as  did 
also  that  for  his  Clavigo  friend,  Fraulein  Munch,  a  mar 
riage  with  whom  was  projected  by  his  parents,  and 
seemed  likely  to  come  to  pass ;  but  his  mother  frightened 
him,  by  producing  from  her  stores,  with  other  prepara 
tions  for  the  event,  a  collection  of  old  cradles. 

His  growing  reputation  made  him  an  object  of  curi 
osity  to  the  society  of  Frankfort ;  and  brought  him  many 
invitations,  which,  for  the  most  part,  he  neglected. 

A  friend,  however,  persuaded  him,  one  evening,  to  go 
with  him  to  a  concert  at  the  house  of  a  merchant  of  the 


XXX11  INTRODUCTION. 

name  of  Sclionemann.  He  found  there  a  numerous  com 
pany,  whom  the  only  daughter  of  the  family  delighted 
hy  her  ready  and  graceful  performance  on  the  piano. 
Goethe  was  attracted  hy  her  "beauty  and  grace,  and  de 
lighted  with  her  conversation.  He  availed  himself  of  an 

O 

invitation  to  repeat  his  visit ;  and,  in  a  short  time,  the 
two  stood  upon  the  most  affectionate  footing. 

Lili,  or  Belinda,  or  Elizaheth  Schonemann  was  born 
on  the  23d  June,  1758,  and  was  at  this  time  sixteen  years 
of  age ;  and  yet  she  confessed  to  her  new  admirer,  that 
she  had  already  been  engaged  in  other  similar  tender 
nesses.  Goethe  describes  the  influence  which  she  exer 
cised  over  him  as  great ;  and  says,  indeed,  that  she  was 
the  only  one  whom  he  had  ever  truly  loved ;  a  statement 
from  which  every  reader  of  his  history  will  dissent. 

As  long  as  the  consent  of  their  parents  was  not  to  be 
had,  Goethe  was  anxious  to  be  married ;  but  when,  at 
length,  it  was  obtained  by  the  intercession  of  a  friend, 
his  ardor  cooled,  and  he  soon  left  her  to  go  on  a  journey 
with  the  express  object  of  trying  whether  he  could  not 
renounce  her. 

He  returned,  however,  to  Frankfort  with  his  love  for 


INTRODUCTION.  XXX111 

her  redoubled ;  but  found  that  during  his  absence  an 
attempt  had  been  made  to  wean  her  from  her  attach 
ment,  by  representing  to  her,  that  his  absence  was  an 
evidence  of  want  of  affection  on  his  part.  Although 
Lili  was  willing  to  adhere  to  her  engagement,  these  re 
presentations  were  not  without  their  effect ;  and  at  last 
they  parted.  He  went  on  his  life-long  visit  to  Weimar ; 
and  she,  three  years  later,  gave  her  hand  to  Yon  Tiirk- 
heim,  a  banker  of  Strassburg. 

We  hear  little  of  her  after  her  marriage.  Goethe 
visited  her,  and  dined  with  her  at  Strassburg  in  Septem 
ber,  1779.  And,  after  the  battle  of  Jena,  a  young  officer 
in  the  French  cavalry,  Lili's  son,  announced  first  to  him 
the  impending  sack  of  Weimar ;  and  that  his  house 
would  be  protected. 

Lili  died  in  1817. 

There  seems  to  be  no  question  of  the  correctness  of 
the  reference  to  Lili  of  the  poems  here  given.  Goethe 
himself  says  in  the  Annalen,  that  many  addressed  to  her 
have  been  lost.  The  poem  entitled  Sadness,  was  not 

written  in  reference  to  her ;  but  as  Goethe  in  his  Auto- 

5 


XXXI V  INTRODUCTION. 

biography  represents  it  as  expressing  certain  emotions 
growing  out  of  his  relation  to  her,  it  has  been  added  to 
the  Lili  poems.  It  was  written  as  a  part  of  the  Sing- 
spiel  Erwin  und  Elmire. 


THE 


MINOR   POETRY 


GOETHE. 


A    SIMILE. 


BUT  lately  to  my  home  I  brought 

Some  meadow  flowers  in  silent  thought ; 

When,  heated  by  my  hand,  I  found 

Their  heads  had  bent  towards  the  ground. 

In  water  they  are  quickly  laid, 

When  lo  !  a  marvel  is  displayed. 

The  quickened  heads  once  more  resume, 

And  leaves  and  stems,  their  primal  bloom, 

And  healthful  all,  as  when  at  birth 

They  sprung  forth  from  their  mother  Earth. 

So  felt  I  when,  in  foreign  tongue, 
I  wondering  heard  my  ballads  sung. 


38 


DEPRECATION. 


A  PASSIONATE  stammering  has  to  us, 

When  written  down,  what  strange  effect  I 

I  now  shall  go  from  house  to  house, 
And  all  the  scattered  leaves  collect. 

Whate'er  did  once  a  lengthened  way 
In  life  from  one  another  stand, 

Collected  'neath  one  roof  to-day, 
Comes  to  the  gentle  reader's  hand. 

Be  not  of  its  defects  ashamed, 

The  little  book  read  quickly  through  ; 

The  world's  of  contradiction  framed, 
Let  it  be  inconsistent  too. 


39 


TO    THE    FRIENDLY. 


BARDS  love  not  their  peace  to  hold, 
Rather  to  the  world  unfold. 

Some  will  praise  and  some  reprove  ! 
None  confession  like  in  prosa  ; 
But  we  oft  confide  sub  rosa 

In  the  Muses'  silent  grove. 

How  I  erred,  and  how  I  strived, 
What  I  suffered,  how  I  lived, 

Flow'rets  in  a  hunch  are  here ; 
And  the  old  as  well  as  youthful, 
And  the  faulty  as  the  truthful, 

Always  well  in  verse  appear. 


FEEDEEICA. 


43 


WELCOME  AND  FAREWELL.* 


My  heart  beat  high !     My  horse  came  forth ! 

At  once  upon  the  steed  I  sprung ; 
To  sleep  had  Evening  rocked  the  Earth, 

And  Night  upon  the  mountains  hung : 
The  oak  in  gloomy  vestment  reared 

His  towering  form,  a  giant  there, 
Where  from  the  thicket  Darkness  peered 

With  hundred  eyes  on  hastening  Fear. 

The  moon,  upon  a  bank  of  cloud, 
Looked  sadly  through  the  misty  air ; 

The  winds  were  roaring  round  me  loud, 
And  beat  their  wings  about  my  ear. 

*  The  ride  by  night,  and  the  visit  to  Frederica  described  in  this  poem, 
are  mentioned  in  the  eleventh  book  of  the  Autobiography. 


44  WELCOME    AND     FAREWELL. 

The  night  a  thousand  monsters  showed, 
But  joyous  was  my  soul  and  bold ; 

And  in  my  heart  what  ardor  glowed  ! 
And  through  my  veins  what  fire  rolled  ! 

I  saw  thee,  and  a  gentle  joy 

Flowed  from  thy  kindly  eye  on  me  ; 
My  heart  rejoiced  that  thou  wert  nigh, 

And  every  breath  I  drew  for  thee. 
A  vernal  morning's  roseate  hue 

Thy  charming  face  from  love  had  caught, 
That  tenderness  thou  show'dst  me  too, 

I  hoped  it,  I  deserved  it  not ! 

But  with,  alas  !  the  dawning  sky 

The  farewell  weighs  upon  my  heart : 
What  raptures  in  thy  kisses  lie  ! 

How  fall  thy  tears,  that  we  must  part ! 
I  went — thou  stood'st  and  watchedst  me 

With  downcast  look  and  tearful  eye. 
What  joy  to  be  beloved  by  thee ! 

And  thee  to  love,  oh  God,  what  joy  ! 


VERSES  SENT  WITH  A  PAINTED  RIBBON  * 


FAIRY  leaves  and  fairy  posies, 
Scatter  here  with  gentle  hand  ; 

Little  Cupids  'mid  the  roses, 
Sporting  on  a  brilliant  hand. 

Of  it,  Zephyr,  he  thou  hearer, 
Bind  it  on  my  darling's  dress ; 

Lead  her  then  before  the  mirror 
In  her  youthful  sprightliness. 

*  The  occasion  of  these  verses  is  thus  alluded  to  by  Goethe  in  the 
Autobiography :  "  Painted  ribbons  had,  at  that  time,  just  come  into 
fashion.  I  painted  a  few  pieces  for  her,  and  sent  them  to  her  with  a  little 
poem,  in  advance  of  my  own  arrival,  as  I  was  obliged  this  time  to  be 
absent  from  her  longer  than  I  had  thought." 


46  VERSES     SENT     WITH     A     PAINTED     RIBBON. 

She  sees  herself  with  roses  laden, 
Like  a  tender  rose  is  she. 

But  one  look,  beloved  maiden ! 
Full  reward  for  me  'twill  be. 

Feel  thou  what  this  heart  exciteth, 
Frankly  reach  thy  hand  to  me ; 

For  the  bond  that  us  uniteth, 
Shall  no  fragile  rose-wreath  be ! 


17 


TO    THE   CHOSEN. 


HAND  in  hand,  and  lip  to  lip  ! 

Dearest  maiden,  faithful  be ! 
Fare  thee  well !  thy  lover's  ship 

Yet  may  brave  the  stormy  sea ; 
If  again  he  greet  the  shore, 

If  the  tempest's  rage  he  miss, 
Vengeance  on  him  Heaven  pour, 

If  thou  sharest  not  his  bliss. 

Boldly  staked  is  almost  won, 
Half  is  gained  my  labor's  fight ; 

Starlight  is  to  me  a  sun, 
For  the  faint  of  heart  'tis  night. 


48  TO     THE     CHOSEN. 

Were  I  idle  by  thy  side, 

Care  would  heavy  lie  on  me  ; 

But  I,  in  the  world  so  wride, 

Brave  will  work,  and  all  for  thee. 

Almost  in  the  vale  I  seem, 

Where  I'll  wander  by  thy  side ; 
Gently  downward  glide  the  stream 

We  will  watch  at  eventide. 
Ah  !  those  poplars  on  the  mead, 

And  that  beechen  grove  I  see ! 
And  among  the  branches  hid, 

There  a  cottage  too  shall  be. 


49 


ON  A  TEEE  IN  THE  WOOD  NEAR 
SESENHEIM.* 


LET  t'wards  the  heavens  rear 

The  tree,  Earth's  pride,  its  form. 
The  holy  wood,  oh  spare, 

Ye  wind,  and  rain,  and  storm  ! 
And  must  a  name  be  marred, 

Of  those  above  take  care  ! 
And  perish  let  the  bard, 

This  rhyme  who  maketh  here. 

~*  This  poem,  which  has  only  comparatively  recently  been  included  in 
the  works  of  Goethe,  was  obtained  for  Professor  Nuke,  by  a  former  pupil 
of  his,  from  Sophia  Brion,  Frederica's  younger  sister.  In  the  Auto 
biography,  mention  is  made  of  a  little  wood,  among  the  trees  of  which 
were  some  benches,  and,  hanging  on  one  of  the  trees,  a  board,  inscribed 
Friederikensrulie.  Sophia,  who  knew  of  the  place  only  by  the  name  of 
The  Nightingale  Grove,  said,  that  on  a  board  were  written  the  names  of 
several  friends  of  the  Sesenheim  family,  and  that  under  these  names 
Goethe  wrote  his,  with  the  verses  here  given. 

7 


TO    FIIEDEIUCA* 


WAKE  Frederica  mine ! 

Drive  night  away, 
Which  one  bright  glance  of  thine 

Turns  into  day ! 
The  songsters  twittering  all 

Their  love-songs  make, 
And  my  sweet  sisters  call 

From  sleep  to  wake. 

Is  sacred  not  my  peace, 
Nor  yet  thy  vow  ? 

*  This  poem  and  the  two  which  follow  it,  were  obtained  from  Sophia 
Brion,  and  first  given  to  the  world  in  1838,  by  A.  Stober.  They  have  not 
been  included  in  Goethe's  works,  but  are  found  at  the  end  of  Stober's 
little  volume,  Der  Didder  Lenz,  &C;,  and  among  the  other  Sesenheim 
poems  (with  some  spurious)  in  Pfeiffer's  Sesenlieimer  Liederbuch. 


TO     FRED  ERIC  A.  51 

Awake  !     Thy  slumbering  cease  ! 

Still  sleepest  thou  ? 
Hark !  Philomel  her  plaint 

Sings  not  to-day, 
Because  on  thee  constraint 

111  slumbers  lay. 

The  modest  morning  bloom, 

With  beauty  fraught, 
Though  blushing  through  thy  room, 

Awakes  thee  not. 
Thy  sister's  loving  breast 

Thou  sleepest  on, 
And  deeper  is  thy  rest 

The  more  'tis  dawn. 

I  saw  thee  sleep,  bright  maid ! 

With  sweet  delight 
A  tear  mine  eyelids  shed, 

That  dims  my  sight. 
Who  coldly  this  can  see  ? 

Or  who  not  glow, 


52  TO     FREDERICA. 

E'en  though  of  ice  he  be 
From  head  to  toe?* 

Perhaps  by  thee  in  dreams 

Mine  image  glides, 
That  half  in  sleep  and  dreams 

The  Muses  chides. 
See  pale  and  flushed  his  face  ! 

Though  sleep  forsake 
The  dreamer's  fond  embrace, 

He  does  not  wake. 

The  nightingale  as  thou 

To  slight  didst  dare, 
So  thou  my  rhyme  must  now 

For  penance  hear. 
The  heavy  yoke  of  rhyme 

Upon  me  lay, 
My  fairest  Muse,  the  time 

Thou  sleep'st  away. 

*  As  this  expression  occurs  elsewhere  in  Goethe,  no  doubt  it  is 
admitted,  in  German,  into  romantic  poetry.  The  last  three  stanzas  are 
rather  obscure. 


53 


TO    FREDE1UCA* 


An  !  art  tliou  gone  ?     From  out  what  golden  play 

Of  dreams  I  waken  to  my  pain  ! 
Entreaty  kept  tbee  not,  tliou  wouldst  not  stay, 

Thou  fledst  away  from  me  again. 

*  Viehoff  thinks,  that  of  all  the  poems  in  the  Sesenheimer  Liederbuch, 
this  one  is  of  most  doubtful  genuineness,  because  it  sounds  like  the  forced 
utterance  of  a  commonplace  versifier,  and  because  it  expresses  a  state  of 
things  between  Goethe  and  Frederica  quite  at  variance  with  that  described 
by  Goethe  himself.  But  as  he  considers  its  genuineness  unquestionable, 
he  suggests  that  Goethe  might  have  been  exhibiting  to  her  some  of  the 
Lover's  Caprices,  which  separated  him  from  Annette,  or  that  she  might 
have  discovered  his  wavering,  and  have  determined  to  take  the  first  step 
towards  the  dissolution  of  their  relation.  May  not  the  coldness  have  been 
"  a  bashful  art"  of  Frederica's,  to  precipitate  a  more  decided  action  than 
he  had  yet  taken? 


54  TO     FREDERICA. 

A  second  time  away  I  saw  thee  go, 
With  tears  was  filled  thy  godlike  eye 

For  friends — but  unobserved,  my  silent  woe 
Was  passed  in  cold  indifference  by. 

Why  didst  thou  turn  thy  face  away  unkind, 

Nor  parting  one  sweet  look  didst  spare  ? 
Oh  wherefore  didst  thou  nothing  leave  behind 

O 

To  him,  but  death,  and  dark  despair  ? 

In  vain  he  would  his  cheerful  heart  recall ! 

The  sun  looks  dim,  and  bare  the  ground, 
The  trees  bloom  black,  the  leaves  are  faded  all, 

And  withered  everything  around. 

Where'er  he  roved  with  thee,  he  wanders  there, 
In  winding  vale,  by  brook,  in  glade, 

And  finds  thee  not,  and  full  of  his  despair 
And  love,  his  tears  for  thee  are  shed. 

Then  in  the  town  ;  but  that  his  heart  dismays, 
* 

He  finds  thee  not,  Perfection,  there ! 


TO     FREDERIC  A.  55 

Let  after  yonder  dolls  another  gaze, 
The  silly  things  he  cannot  bear.* 

Oh  let,  oh  let  him  not  in  vain  implore, 
And  write  to  him,  thou  lov'st  him  still ! 

Or  else,  alas  !  ne'er  let  him  see  thee  more, 
If  thou  this  hope  wilt  not  fulfil. 

What !  never  see  thee  more  !  Oh  dreadful  thought, 
Pour  all  thine  anguish  out  on  me  ! 

I  feel,  I  feel  it  all,  the  cruel  lot — 
I  die,  oh  cruel  maid,  for  thee  ! 

*  Pfeiffer  supposes  that  these  expressions  ("yonder  dolls"  and  "silly 
things")  refer  to  Frederica's  city  friends  and  relatives,  whom  she  had  been 
visiting ;  but  Goethe  would  hardly  have  applied  terms  of  contempt  to  her 
friends  in  addressing  her.  He  probably  speaks  of  the  girls  of  Strassburg, 
with  their  city  dresses  and  artificial  manners. 


A    GLOOMY    MORN. 


A  GLOOMY  morning  shrouds 

My  meadow  from  my  eyes ; 
Hid  in  the  misty  clouds, 

The  world  about  me  lies. 
Oh  Frederica  mine, 

Might  I  to  thee  return ! 
In  one  dear  glance  of  thine 

Sunshine  and  blessing  burn. 

The  tree,  whose  bark  still  bears 
My  name  beside  thine  own, 

The  inclement  tempest  sears, 
Which  joy  away  has  blown. 


A     GLOOMY     MORN.  57 

The  meadows'  sparkling  green 

The  blast  makes  sad  like  me, 
By  them  no  sun  is  seen, 

Nor  I  Frederica  see. 

I  go  soon  where  the  vine 

With  ripened  grapes  is  crowned ; 
Where  flows  the  new-made  wine, 

And  all  is  life  around. 
Ah,  were  she  with  me  here, 

How  blessed  were  my  lot ! 
To  her  the  fruit  I'd  bear, 

And  she,  she'd  give  me  what  ? 


58 


FREDERIC A* 


SHE  feeleth  now  with  me  Love's  sway, 
I  won  her  gentle  heart  in  play, 

And  from  her  heart  mine  is  she  now. 
This  blessing,  Fate,  thou  gavest  me, 
Then  let  me  ever  constant  be, 

And  teach  me  to  deserve  her  thou. 

*  This  poem  and  the  two  succeeding  it  were  also  found  in  the  posses 
sion  of  Sophia  Brion,  and  first  published  in  1838,  by  Sto'ber  5  but  the 
three  were  given  as  one  poem  through  some  misunderstanding. 


59 


TO    SESENHEIM.* 


YE  golden  children,  soon  I'll  come  ! 
In  vain  within  our  cheerful  home 
"Will  winter  on  us  turn  the  key. 

Before  the  fire  our  seats  we'll  take, 
And  glad  we  then  our  hearts  will  make, 
And  like  the  angels  love  will  we. 

*  During  Goethe's  intercourse  with  Frederica,  an  uninterrupted  corre 
spondence  was  carried  on  between  them,  the  whole  of  which  is  lost,  with 
the  exception  of  one  letter  from  the  poet  to  her.  The  letters  in  Pfeiffer's 
Goethe's  FricdriJce  are  spurious.  Occasionally  the  correspondence  seems 
to  have  assumed  a  poetical  form,  as  in  this  piece  and  that  entitled  At 
Table. 


GO  TO     SESENHEIM. 

And  little  garlands  we  will  wind, 
And  little  posies  we  will  bind,* 
And  little  children  we  will  be. 

*  A  reference  to  the  social  game  of  Strausswinden  perhaps. — Pfeiffer's 
Friedrike. 


61 


AT    TABLE. 


YOUR  knight  is  seated  at  the  place, 
Dear  girls,  was  on  his  way  ye  said. 

His  horse  went  on  with  lingering  pace, 
Nor  faster  on  his  spirit  sped. 

At  table  now  content  I  sit, 

And  finish  my  adventure  here  ; 
A  few  hoiled  eggs  and  just  a  bit 

Of  roasted  fish  my  only  fare. 

The  night  indeed  was  somewhat  dark, 
My  sorrel  stumbled  on  like  blind ; 

And  yet  I  found  the  way  as  well,  as  his  the  clerk 
To  early  Sunday  prayers  can  find. 


62 


WHEN  I  WAS  IN  SAARBRUCKEN. 


WHERE  art  thou  now,  sweet  maid,  forgotten  ne'er? 

Where  singest  thou  ? 
Where  smiles  the  field,  the  city  triumphs  where, 

That  holds  thee  now  ? 

Since  thou  art  gone,  the  sun  no  longer  shines, 

And  now  with  me 
The  sky  in  tender,  tearful  sorrow  joins, 

To  weep  for  thee. 

Away  with  thee  is  all  our  pleasure  gone ; 

And  silent  vale 
And  hamlet  now ;  and  after  thee  hath  flown 

The  nightingale.  • 


WHEN     I     WAS     IN     SAARBRUCKEN.  63 

Oh  come  !  call  swain  and  flocks  distressed  to  thee, 

So  far  away ; 
Come  soon  again,  or  else  'twill  winter  be 

In  time  of  May. 


LO  T  TE 


67 


THE    UGLY    FACE.* 


WHEN  of  a  worthy  gentleman, 

A  pastor,  or  an  alderman, 

A  likeness  cut  on  copper-plate, 

"With  rugged  rhyme  to  illustrate, 

Is  ordered  hy  his  widowed  mate, 

It  means :  see  here  with  head  and  ears, 

The  reverend,  well-born  man  appears. 

Behold  his  lofty  brow  and  eyes ; 

But  then  his  intellect,  so  wise 

And  useful  to  the  commonweal, 

The  graven  face  will  not  reveal. 

*  These  verses  were  sent  to  Charlotte  in  1774,  with  a  silhouette  likeness 
of  himself,  a  fac-siraile  of  which  (and  also  of  the  verses),  is  given  in 
Kestner's  beautiful  book.  The  letter  accompanying  the  likeness  contains 
an  allusion  to  the  expression  "  the  ugly  face,"  which,  a  note  of  Kestner's 
says,  explains  it  5  but  the  explanation  needs  explaining. 


68  THE    UGLY     FACE 

So  means  it,  Lotte,  here  :  I  send 
To  thee  a  likeness  of  thy  friend. 
Thou'lt  see  the  earnest  forehead  there, 
The  glowing  eye,  and  flowing  hair ; 
'Tis  just  about  the  ugly  face  : 
But  there  my  love  thou  canst  not  trace. 


G9 


THE  PILGRIM'S  MORNING  SONG  * 

TO    LI  LA. 


THE  morning  mists  have  rolled. 

My  Lila,  round  thy  tower  ; 
And  shall  I  not  behold 

It  in  this  parting  hour ! 
But  still  around  my  heart 

A  thousand  vivid  forms 
Of  blessed  memories  dart, 

At  which  my  bosom  warms. 

*  These  verses  were  written  on  the  morning  on  which  he  finally  left 
Wetzlar.  He  addresses  her  as  Lila,  because  it  was  a  favorite  poetic  name 
of  the  time.  By  the  tower  is  meant  a  square  tower,  supposed  to  be  Roman, 
outside  of  Wetzlar ;  and  he  calls  it  her  tower,  because  her  walks  were 
mostly  towards  it. 

In  the  German,  this  poem  is  written  without  rhyme,  in  short  irregular 
verse,  not  easy  to  reproduce  in  English.  In  the  same  manner  is  written 
another  poem,  called  "  Elysium,"  and  addressed  "  To  Urania,"  who  is  sup 
posed  to  be  that  friend  of  Lotte,  whose  "  Juno  form"  his  blunt  friend  Merck 
preferred  to  Lotte  herself. 


70  THE   PILGRIM'S   MORNING   SONG. 

How  there  it  stood  above, 

A  witness  of  my  joy, 
When  full  of  trembling  love, 

At  first  the  stranger  boy 
Into  thy  presence  came  ; 

And  in  his  youthful  heart 
A  never-ending  flame 

Thou  suddenly  didst  dart ! 

Thou  North,  about  my  brow 

May'st  hiss  with  serpent  tongue  ; 
My  head  thou  shalt  not  bow  ! 

Bow  down  thou  may'st  the  young 
And  feeble  twig,  from  whom 

Its  mother  sun  is  fled, 
And  on  whose  early  bloom 

Her  love  no  more  is  shed. 

Omnipresent  Love  !  thou 
Through  my  bosom  glowest ; 

Thou  to  the  storm  my  brow, 
To  dangers  giv'st  my  breast. 


THE  PILGRIM'S  MORNING  SONG.  71 

A  double  life  thou  hast  shed 

Upon  my  withering  breast : 
With  firmer  step  to  tread, 

In  life  to  find  new  zest ! 


L  I  L  I. 


NEW  LOVE,  NEW  LIFE* 


HEART,  my  heart,  what  ails  thee  now  ? 

Wherefore  art  thou  so  forlore  ? 
What  strange  life  now  livest  thou  ! 

Scarce  I  recognize  thee  more. 
All  thou  lovedst  once  is  gone, 
All  in  grief  thou  dwelledst  on, 
Gone  thy  labors,  gone  thy  rest — 
Ah,  how  cam'st  thou  so  distressed  ! 

Chains  thy  heart  the  blooming  youth 

Of  yon  lovely  maiden  form  ? 
Hath  that  glance  of  love  and  truth 

Bound  thee  by  eternal  charm  ? 

*  This  poem  was  written  in  the  first  days  of  his  acquaintance  with  Lili. 
The  feelings  in  which  it  originated  are  described  in  the  opening  of  the 
Seventeenth  Book  of  the  Autobiography. 


76  NEW    LOVE,    NEW    LIFE. 

If  I  strive  from  her  to  flee, 

If  of  firmer  heart  to  be, 

Still  my  paths  my  footsteps  guide 

Ever  back  to  her  dear  side. 

And  so  by  this  magic  thread, 

Which  I  strive  to  break  in  vain, 
'Gainst  my  will  the  charming  maid 

Holds  me  'neath  her  ruthless  reign  ; 
In  her  magic  circle,  I 
Now  must  with  her  will  comply, 
Ah,  how  great  the  change  to  me  ! 
Love  !  oh  Love  !  oh  set  me  free  ! 


77 


TO    BELINDA* 


WHEREFORE  dost  thou  draw  me  'gainst  my  will 

Into  yonder  light  ? 
Was  I  not,  poor  youth,  more  happy  still 

In  the  lonesome  night  ? 

Peacefully  I  in  my  little  room 

In  the  moonlight  lay, 
Slumbering  softly  in  the  twilight  gloom 

Of  its  mournful  ray  ; 

*  These  verses  were  written  at  about  the  same  period  as  the  preceding. 
They  express  his  dislike  of  the  gay  life  which  she  led  ;  and  the  discomfort 
which  he  felt  at  being  obliged  to  see  her  in  the  presence  of  strangers,  with 
whom  he  was  expected  to  sit  at  the  card  table ;  and  who  perhaps  occa 
sioned  him  a  little  jealousy.  If  one  may  presume  to  say  so,  the  verses  are 
without  merit. 


78  TO    BELINDA. 

And  of  golden  moments  there  I  dreamed, 

When  I  should  be  blest, 
And  to  feel  thy  cherished  form  I  seemed 

Deep  within  my  breast. 

Am  I,  too,  not  he,  whom  in  such  glare 

Thou  dost  keep  at  play  ? 
'Gainst  the  faces,  which  I  cannot  bear, 

Thou  dost  oft  array  ? 

Not  the  bloom  of  early  Spring  more  dear, 

Angel,  to  my  heart ; 
Where  thou  art,  is  love  and  goodness  there, 

Mature,  where  thou  art. 


UPON   THE  LAKE* 


IN  the  open  world  a  fresher  food 

I  draw  from  Nature's  breast ; 
A  mother  kind  is  she  and  good, 

Who  holds  me  there  at  rest ! 
The  wave  lifts  up  our  boat  in  time 

"With  the  oarsman's  steady  beat, 
And  cloud-clad  hills,  that  heaven  climb, 

Us  on  our  journey  meet. 

Eye,  mine  eye,  why  dost  thou  droop  ? 
Golden  dreams,  still  do  ye  troop  ? 
Flee,  thou  dream,  though  gold,  afar  ! 
Love  and  life  here  also  are. 

*  Descriptive  of  a  trip,  with  Lavater  and  others,  up  the  lake  of  Zurich, 
during  his  separation  from  Lili. 


80  UPON     THE    LAKE. 

In  the  waters  blink 

Stars  with  flickering  light ; 
Cloudy  vapors  drink 

On  the  distant  height ; 
Morning  breezes  sweep 

Round  the  shaded  bay  ; 
Mirrored  in  the  deep 

Waving  harvests  play. 


81 


FROM   THE   MOUNTAIN.* 


IF  I,  dearest  Lili,  loved  thee  not, 

Me  what  joy  would  give  a  scene  like  this  ! 

And  yet,  Lili,  if  I  loved  thee  not, 

Should  I  here  or  there  e'er  find  my  bliss  ? 

*  Having  landed  at  Richterschwyl,  and  ascended  the  mountain,  Goethe 
wrote  these  lines  in  a  memorandum  book.     The  last  line  has  two  readings. 


11 


82 


TO  A  GOLDEN  HEART  WHICH  HE 
WOKE  ON  HIS  NECK.* 


DEAR  sign  of  pleasures  passed  away, 

That  ever  to  my  heart  art  nigh, 
Prolongest  thou  love's  waning  day  ? 

Art  stronger  than  the  spirit-tie  ? 

Lili,  I  go  !  But  still  to  thee 
Lovebound,  I  wander  joylessly, 

*  Standing  and  looking  down  into  Italy,  and  urged  by  his  friend  to  de 
scend  to  the  beautiful  plains  of  Lombardy,  he  hesitated,  unwilling  to  leave 
behind  him  the  Germany,  that  held  all  he  loved,  and  especially  "  her,  who 
was  his  destiny."  He  was  about  to  yield  to  the  wishes  of  his  friend.  "  A 
little  golden  heart,  which  I  had  received  from  her  in  the  most  beautiful 
moments  of  our  love,  still  hung  by  the  same  riband,  to  which  she  herself 
had  fastened  it,  lovewarmed  on  my  neck.  I  caught  it  and  kissed  it.v  He 
returned  homeward. 


TO     A     GOLDEN     HEART. 

And  through  far  woods  and  valleys  flee  ! 
Ah  !  not  so  soon  could  Lili's  heart 
From  mine  so  soon  it  could  not  part. 

So  some  poor  bird,  which  breaks  its  string, 
And  to  the  woods  again  flies  home, 

A  fragment  of  his  bond  will  bring 
"Where'er  he  may  in  freedom  roam  ; 

It  is  the  old  freeborn  bird  no  more, 

To  some  one  hath  belonged  before. 


84 


S  A  D  N  E  S  S  * 


AH,  sweet  roses,  now  ye  perish, 

You  my  darling  never  wore  ; 
One  ye  bloomed  for,  who  can  cherish, 

Brokenhearted,  hope  no  more  ! 

On  those  days  I  linger  weeping, 
Which  in  love  with  thee  I  spent, 

And  watch  for  the  first  hud  keeping, 
Early  in  my  garden  went ; 

":f  u  This  poem  expresses,"  says  Goethe,  "  the  sweetness  of  my  sorrow" — 
/.  e.  at  the  period  when  the  relation  to  Lili  was  about  to  close.  He  does  not 
mean  that  the  verses  were  written  in  reference  to  those  feelings  ;  but  they 
are  inserted  here,  as  he  associates  them  with  Lili.  The  song  is  in  the 
Singspiel  Erwln  und  Elmire. 


SADNESS.  85 

On  those  days  when  fruit  and  blossom 

Still  I  carried  to  thy  feet, 
And  before  thy  face  my  bosom 

Still  with  love  and  hope  would  beat. 

Ah,  sweet  roses,  now  ye  perish, 

You  my  darling  never  wore ; 
One  ye  bloomed  for,  who  can  cherish, 

Brokenhearted,  hope  no  more  ! 


86 


LILTS    MENAGERIE; 


THERE'S  no  menagerie  I  vow 

"With  my  sweet  Lili's  can  compare  ! 
She  has  the  strangest  beasts  in  there, 

And  gets  them  in,  she  knows  not  how. 

Oh,  how  they  hop  and  run,  poor  things, 

And  flounder  with  their  blunted  wings, 

The  princes  over  whom  she  reigns, 

In  love's  tormenting  endless  pains  ! 

*  The  commercial  relations  of  Lili's  father,  brought  many  visitors  to  tin- 
house,  young,  middle-aged,  and  old  ;  and  some  with  alarming  advantages 
of  fortune.  All  of  them  moreover  pretended  to  an  interest  in  the  lovely 
daughter.  The  jealousy  which  the  lover  naturally  experienced  under  these 
circumstances,  found  utterance  in  the  poem  Lilts  Park,  where  the  nume 
rous  suitors  of  Lili  are  represented  as  under  enchantment,  and  changed  by 
her  power  into  the  forms  of  various  beasts,  Goethe  himself  being  the  bear. 


LILl'S     MENAGERIE.  87 

The  fairy's  name  ?  Lili  ?  Seek  nought  of  her  to  know  ! 
For  if  ye  know  her  not,  then  thank  your  fate  'tis  so. 

Oh,  what  a  cackling,  what  a  clacking, 
Whene'er  she  in  the  doorway  stands, 
And  holds  the  fodder-basket  in  her  hands  ! 

Oh,  wrhat  a  croaking,  what  a  quacking  ! 

The  trees,  the  bushes  seem  to  be  alive : 

And  rushing  forward,  whole  herds  strive 

To  reach  her  feet :  the  fishes  in  the  basin  too 

Impatient  splash  with  noses  out  : 

She  scatters  then  the  food  about, 

And  with  a  look  would  ravish  gods,  to  say 

Nought  of  the  beasts.    And  then  begins  a  picking, 

And  such  a  sipping,  such  a  licking  ! 
They  plunging  come  head  over  head, 

And  push  and  press  and  pull  away, 

And  chase  and  fight  and  bite  away, 
And  all  about  a  bit  of  bread, 

Which  dry,  tastes  from  her  lovely  hands,  I  ween, 

As  though  it  in  ambrosia  had  been. 

And  then  the  look  !  The  tone, 


LILT'S     MENAGERIE. 

With  which  she  calls,  Pipi !  Pipi  ! 

Would  draw  Jove's  eagle  from  his  throne  ; 

And  Venus'  doves  would  flock, 

And  e'en  the  vain  peacock 

Would  come.     They'd  come,  I  swear, 

If  they  her  voice  afar  should  only  hear. 

And  so  from  out  the  forest's  night 

To  obey  her  rule,  she  did  a  rude 

And  unlicked  bear  delude, 
And  'mong  the  tame  ones  put  the  wight, 
And  tame  hath  made  him  with  the  rest : 
But  only  to  a  certain  point,  'tis  understood  ! 
How  beautiful,  and  ah  !  how  good 
She  seemed  to  be  !  My  blood  I  would  have  even 
To  water  her  red  roses  given. 

Thou  sayest  I!  Who  ?  How,  sir  ?  Where  ? 
Well,  then,  sirs,  plainly  :  I'm  the  bear  ; 
Caught  in  a  silken  net  alas  ! 
And  by  a  thread  bound  to  her  feet ; 
But  how  it  all  has  come  to  pass, 


LILI'S     MENAGERIE.  89 

Relate  some  other  time  I  may, 
I  am  too  furious  for't  to-day. 

For  as  I  in  the  corner  stay, 
And  from  afar  I  hear  the  clatter, 
And  how  they  flutter  all,  and  chatter, 
I  turn  and  scowl 
And  growl, 

And  backwards  run  a  little  way, 
And  round  I  scowl 
And  growl, 

And  run  again  a  little  way, 
And  turn  at  last  again  and  scowl. 

A  sudden  rage  then  in  me  glows, 
There  snorts  a  mighty  spirit  through  my  nose, 
And  rages  all  the  nature  of  the  bear. 
What !  thou  a  fool,  a  simple  hare ! 
A  squirrel,  good  for  nought  but  nuts  to  crack  ! 
I  bristle  up  my  shaggy  back, 
That  never  slave  had  been. 
12 


00  LILl's     MENAGERIE. 

I'm  jeered  by  every  garden  tree  ! 

I  hurry  from  the  bowling  green, 
And  from  the  pretty  smooth -mo  wed  grass  ; 
The  box  makes  faces  as  I  pass, 

And  in  the  darkest  grove  I  flee 
To  struggle  through  the  hedges  hence, 

OO  ~  O  i 

Or  leap  above  the  boarded  fence  ! 

But  I  can  neither  climb  nor  bound : 

Enchantment  weighs  me  to  the  ground. 

Again  enchantment  binds  me  fast, 

I  waste  my  strength,  and  wearied  out  at  last, 

I  lay  me  down  beside  the  waterfall, 
And  champ,  and  weep,  and  roll  myself  half  dead, 

But  porcelain  Oreads  only  hear  my  call, 
Nor  heed  my  cries  for  aid. 

Ah,  suddenly  there  overpower 

What  sweet  sensations  all  my  limbs  ! 

'Tis  she,  who  sings  there  in  her  bower  ! 

Again  the  dear,  dear  voice  I  hear  : 

With  blossoms  scented  is  the  air. 

Ah  !  does  she  sing  perchance  that  I  may  hear  ? 


LILI    S     MENAGERIE.  91 

The  shrubbery  breaks  beneath  my  foot, 
Yield  tree  and  bush  before  my  mad  career, 
And  so — lies  at  her  feet  the  brute. 

She  looks  :  "  A  monster  !  well,  'tis  odd  ! 

To  be  a  bear  it  is  too  mild, 

And  for  a  poodle  much  too  wild, 

So  shaggy,  awkward,  such  a  clod  !" 

His  back  she  scratches  with  her  foot  so  small ; 

He  seems  in  Paradise  to  be. 

His  seven  senses  tingle  all, 

While  calm  and  all  unmoved  is  she. 

I  kiss  her  shoe,  and  gnaw  the  heel 

As  well  behaved  as  could  a  bruin  be ; 

I  gently  raise  myself,  and  steal 

So  softly  to  her  knee  !  She  lets  it  be — 

Ah,  happy  day !  She  strokes  my  ear, 

And  wantonly  then  slaps  she  me  ; 

I  snarl,  in  joy  a  new-born  bear  ; 

She  bids  me  then  with  merry,  wanton  thought : 

Allons  tout  doux  !  eh  la  menotte  ! 

Et  faites  serviteur, 


92  LILI'S     MENAGERIE. 

Oomme  un  joli  seigneur. 

She  so  goes  on  with  play  and  glee  ; 

Still  hopes  the  oft-deluded  fool ; 
But  should  he  make  himself  too  free, 

She  brings  him  soon  beneath  her  rule. 

She  has  a  flask  of  balsam  too, 

]STo  honey  equals  it  on  earth, 

Of  which  she,  softened  by  his  love  and  worth, 

A  drop  puts  on  her  finger  tip, 

And  rubs  her  monster's  thirsty  lip, 

And  flees  again,  and  leaves  me  all  alone  ; 

And  I  then,  though  unloosed,  still  groan 

In  bonds  ;  I  follow  her,  though  free, 

I  seek  her,  and  again  I  flee — 

And  so  she  lets  the  poor  one  go  his  way, 

ISfor  gives  his  griefs  and  joys  a  sigh  ; 
Sometimes  she  lets  the  gate  half  open  stay, 

And  watches  slyly,  whether  I  will  fly. 

And  I ! — Ye  gods,  if  in  your  hands  it  be, 
To  set  me  from  this  sorcery  free  ; 


LI  LI    S     MENAGERIE. 


How  shall  I  bless  you,  when  I  am  free  at  length  ! 
But  help  ye  not  the  poor  unhappy  wretch — 
Xot  all  in  vain  my  limbs  I  so  can  stretch  : 

T  fccl't !  T  swear' t !  I  feel  I  yet  have  strength. 


L  I  L  I  * 


LILI,  tbou  who  wast  so  long 
All  my  joy,  my  only  song, 
All  my  sorrow  tliou  art  now, 
But  still  all  my  song  art  thou. 

*  These  verses  are  not  in  Goethe's  works.  They  are  found  in  a  letter 
from  him  to  the  Duke  of  Saxe  Weimar  (quoted  in  Viehoff ).  He  says  : 
"As  in  the  night  I  approached  the  Fichtengebirge,  the  feeling  of  the  past, 
of  my  destiny,  and  my  love,  came  over  me,  and  I  sang  thus  to  myself." 


FRAU  YON  STEIN. 


97 


CHAPPED   LIPS.* 


WHO  hears  my  plaint  ?  To  whom  shall  I  complain  ? 
And  he  who  hears  me,  will  he  mourn  my  pain  ? 
Alas  !  these  lips,  which  hers  so  oft  have  blessed, 
And  sweetly  grateful,  hers  again  have  pressed, 
Are  bruised  and  split,  and  scarce  for  pain  can  move. 
And  yet  they  are  not  hurt,  because  my  love, 
Too  wildly  fond,  with  eager  kiss  hath  seized 
The  lip  and  bitten,  her  young  fancy  pleased 
To  think  her  precious  friend  more  sure  enjoyed  : 
Alas  !  the  tender  lip  hath  been  destroyed, 

*  This  poem  was  sent,  in  1776,  in  a  letter  to  Frau  von  Stein,  and  was 
published  in  1789.  But  the  early  form  of  it  differed  greatly  from  the 
later.  It  was  nearly  double  in  length,  and  entitled.  To  the  Spirit  of  Johan 
nes  Secundus.  The  "  Basia'?  of  Secundus  appear  to  have  given  rise  to  it. 
See  Lehman's  Goethe's  Liebe  und  Liebcsgeschichtc,  where  the  earlier  form 
of  the  poem  is  given. 

13 


98  CHAPPED     LIPS. 

Because  the  cutting  winter  wind  hath  played 
Across  my  face  with  keen  and  cruel  blade. 

But  now  the  noble  vine's  sweet  juice  I'll  warm 
With  honey  gathered  from  the  busy  swarm, 
And  hope  that  joy  thereby  may  be  restored  ; 
But  what  relief  alas  !  will  that  afford, 
If  Love  therein  his  balm  shall  not  have  poured  ? 


NIGHT    THOUGHTS.* 


DESPITE  your  beauty  and  your  high  estate, 
Unhappy  stars,  I  pity  you  your  fate, 
The  roaming  mariner  who  gladly  guide, 
Without  reward,  across  the  foaming  tide  : 
For  ye  are  not  loved,  neither  do  ye  love  ! 
Unceasingly  in  your  career  above 
Ye  move  across  the  dark  expanse  of  heaven  ; 
And  through  what  space  ye  have  already  driven, 
While  I  have,  by  the  side  of  love,  of  night, 
And,  hapless  stars,  of  you,  forgot  the  flight ! 

Sent  to  Frau  von  Stein,  September  20th,  1781.— Scholl. 


100 


THE  WANDERER'S  NIGHT  SONG  * 


THOU  who  the  child  of  Heaven  art, 
Who  transports  and  sorrows  stillest, 

Who  the  doubly  wretched  heart 
Doubly  with  thy  comfort  fillcst. 

Ah,  when  will  my  yearning  cease  ! 
What  avails  or  joy  or  grief? 
Blessed  peace, 

Bring,  ah  bring  my  heart  relief! 

*  This  piece  was  written  February  12th,  177G,  as  a  note  to  Fran 
Stein. — See  Sch oil's  Goethe's  Briefe  an  Frau  von  Stein. 


101 


TO   THE   MOON.* 


OVER  vale  and  grove  thy  glance 

Still  and  hazy  gleams, 
Thou'lt  dissolve  iny  soul  perchance 

In  thy  peaceful  beams. 

Soothingly  thy  glances  lie 

O'er  the  meadow  spread, 
As  the  light  of  friendship's  eye 

O'er  my  fate  is  shed. 

Echoes  of  the  past  I  hear 
Joyous  days  and  sad, 

*  A  young  lady,  named  Von  Lassberg,  believing  herself  deserted  by  her 
lover,  drowned  herself  in  the  Urn,  in  1778.  The  incident  gave  rise  to  this 
poem.  As  originally  written  and  sent  to  Frau  von  Stein,  in  January,  1778. 
it  was  much  shorter  and  differed  considerably  in  expression. 


102  TO     THE     MOON, 

Lonely  while  I  wander  here 
Sorrowful  and  glad. 

Onward  flow,  sweet  river,  on  ! 

Joy  I  ne'er  shall  know  ! 
So  have  kiss  and  laughter  gone, 

Faith  and  honor  so. 

"What  to  all  so  precious  is, 
I  too  once  possessed  ! 

May  it  e'er  for  woe  he  his, 
Ever  in  his  breast ! 

Murmur,  stream,  the  vale  along, 
As  thou  restless  go'st, 

Murmur,  whisper  to  my  song 
Music  whilst  thou  flow'st ! 

When  in  winter  night  thy  tide 
Angrily  thou  swell'st, 

Or  around  the  vernal  pride 
Of  the  blossoms  well'st. 


TO     THE     MOON. 

Blest,  who  void  of  hate  enfolds 
'Gainst  the  world  the  heart, 

On  her  breast  a  friend  who  holds 
Joy  with  him  to  part ! 

What  by  man  hath  ne'er  been  guessed, 
Ne'er  been  known  aright, 

o       ~ 

Through  the  labyrinth  of  the  breast 
"Wanders  in  the  night. 


104 


TO    THE   NEW   YEAR,    1779* 


THOU  mak'st  the  aged  young,  the  youthful  old, 

Mak'st  cold  the  warm,  and  warm  the  cold, 

Art  grave  in  sport,  and  makes  thee  smile  the  grave. 

To  thee  a  kindly  genius  gave 

His  ancient  privilege  o'er  men  here  below, 

Of  woe  their  weal  to  make,  their  weal  of  woe. 

*  Sent  to  Frau  von  Stein  on  the  new  year  of  1779. — See  Scholl. 


105 


A    MIDNIGHT    FAIRY    SONG.* 


AT  midnight,  when  asleep  are  men  at  length, 
Then  shines  for  us  the  moon, 

Then  gleams  for  us  the  star, 
We  rove  and  dance  and  sing, 

Nor  gay  till  then  we  are. 

At  midnight,  when  asleep  are  men  at  length, 
We  seek  the  alder  grove, 

And  in  the  pale  moonbeam, 
We  rove  about  and  sing, 

And  gaily  dance  a  dream. 

*  Sent  to   Fran  von    Stein  in  a  note  of   14-15   October,  1780 — Sec 

Scholl. 

14 


106 


"  As  I  was  sketching  for  thee  by  the  Ilm,  on  the  29th  June,  1776,  between 
noon  and  one." — Note  to  Fran  von  Stein,  July  2d,  1776. — Scholl. 

HERE  tracing  Mature  in  repose, 

New  pangs  my  heart  its  early  sorrows  give. 

I  ever  live  for  sake  of  those, 

For  sake  of  whom  I  should  not  live. 


107 


TO    LI  DA; 


THAT  only  one  thy  heart  hath  known, 

Thou  rightly  callest  thine  alone  ; 

For  only  thine  he  e'er  can  be : 

For  since  I  turned  away  from  thee, 

To  me  life's  hurried  tumult  seems 

A  slender  gauze,  and  through  it  gleams, 

As  through  some  fleecy  cloud,  thy  form, 

That  faithful  beams  on  me  and  warm  : 

So  through  the  Northlight's  streaming  bars 

There  glisten  the  eternal  stars. 

*  Addressed  to  Frau  von  Stein,  in  October,  1781. — Scholl's  Correspon 
dence. 


108 


NEARNESS* 


How  oft  thou  art,  beloved  girl, 

I  know  not  how,  from  me  estranged  ! 
When  midst  the  throng  of  men  we  are,  the  whirl 

Of  life  my  pleasure  all  dismisses  ; 
When  the  noise  is  for  peace  and  darkness  changed, 
Again  I  know  thee  by  thy  kisses. 

*  Supposed  to  belong  to  the  "  Lid  a"  poems,  and  therefore  to  Fran  von 

Stein. 
f 


too 


THE   CHOSEN    STONE* 


THE  lover  thought  of  her  he  loved  in  silence  here, 

And  said  glad-hearted,  Thou,  oh  Stone,  slialt  witness  bear ! 

But  be  not  proud,  thou  many  a  comrade  hast,  believe ; 

To  every  stone  upon  the  field,  whereof  I  live, 

To  every  tree,  which  in  the  wood  I  wander  by, 

Memorial  be  of  joy  !  I  consecrating  cry. 

But  voice  to  thec  alone  I  give,  as  midst  the  throng 

On  one  alone  the  Muse  bestows  the  gift  of  song. 

*  ll  Descending  the  winding  path  on  the  other  side  (in  Goethe's  garden), 
I  found  a  stone,  surrounded  by  shrubbery,  in  which  was  cut  this  verse  from 
the  well-known  poem — 

Hier  im  Stillen  gedachte  der  Liebende  seiner  Geliebten  ; 

and  I  felt  that  I  stood  on  classic  ground." — Eckermann,  1824. 

"  On  a  slab  let  into  the  tuff  wall  may  be  read  the  inscription,  which  in 
Goethe's  poems  is  entitled  The  Chosen  Stone — An  act  of  homage  to  Frau 
von  Stein." — Vehse — Hofe  des  Hauses  Sachsen. 


no 


F  O  B,  E  V  E  R  * 


To  whatsoever  thing  of  highest  good, 

Within  earth's  bounds,  man  names  celestial  gives, 
Harmonious  truth,  which  e'er  unwavering  stood, 

And  friendship,  which  without  suspicion  lives ; 
The  light  which  through  the  sage's  lonely  thinking  plays, 

And  burns  in  forms  of  beauty,  which  the  bard  surround ; 
That  had  I  all  in  those  my  happiest  days 

In  her  discerned,  and  for  myself  I  found. 

"""  ]t  is  supposed  that  this  piece  was  intended  to  form  part  of  the  un 
finished  poem,  Die  Geheimnisse.  Frau  von  Stein  is  the  person  alluded  to 
in  it. 


Ill 


PHILOMELA* 


THEE  truly  Love,  0  songstress,  reared  himself  and  fed; 

He  held,  the  childlike  god,  the  food  upon  his  dart ; 
And  so  the  poison  through  thy  harmless  throat  he  spread, 

That  with  the  force  of  love  strikes  Philomel  the  heart. 

*  Sent  to  Frau  von  Stein  in  a  note  of  26th  May,  1782  ;  but  somewhat 
differently  expressed.  It  was  subsequently  placed  under  the  figure  of  a 
Cupid,  feeding  a  nightingale  with  an  arrow,  in  the  park  at  Tiefurt. 


FROM 


WILHELM    MEISTER. 


15 


M  I  G  N  O  N  * 


KNOW'ST  thou  the  land,  where  bright  the  citrous  bloom. 

The  golden  orange  glows  in  leafy  gloom, 

A  gentle  breeze  from  the  azure  heavens  blows, 

The  myrtle  calm,  and  high  the  laurel  grows  ? 

Know'st  thou  the  land  ? 

That  way  !  that  way, 
With  thee,  beloved,  gladly  would  I  stray. 

Know'st  thou  the  house  ?  Its  roof  on  columns  rests, 
And  hall  and  room  a  golden  glory  vests, 
The  marble  forms  look  down  upon  me  mild, 
And  say  :  What  have  they  done  to  thee,  poor  child  ? 
Know'st  thou  the  house  ? 

*  See  the  Lelirjahre,  Book  3,  Chapter  1. 


116  MI  ON  ON. 

That  way  !  that  way, 
"With  thee  would  I,  oh  my  protector,  stray. 

Know'st  thou  the  mountain,  and  its  misty  path  ? 
His  way  through  clouds  the  mule  to  search  for  hath ; 
In  caverns  dwells  the  dragon's  aged  brood  ; 
The  rock  leaps  down,  and  over  it  the  flood. 
Know'st  thou  the  mount  ? 

That  way  !  that  way, 
Oh  father  !  let  us  now  together  stray. 


117 


M  I  G  N  O  N  * 


OH  !  bid  me  not  reveal,  but  silence  keep, 

For  duty  is  to  me  my  secret  now  ; 
All  would  I  show  that  in  my  heart  lies  deep, 

But  that,  alas,  my  fate  will  not  allow. 

The  sun  at  early  morn  breaks  up  the  rest 
Of  night,  and  o'er  her  face  his  glory  flings ; 

The  solid  rock  unlocks  its  stony  breast, 

And  grudges  not  to  Earth  the  hidden  springs. 

All  in  the  arms  of  friendship  seek  repose, 
And  there  the  breast  its  sorrows  may  reveal  ; 

But,  bound  by  my  oath,  I  must  ever  close 
The  lips,  which  only  can  my  God  unseal. 

*  See  the  LeJirjaJire,  Book  5,  Chapter  1C. 


118 


M  I  G  N  O  N  * 


So  let  me  seem,  until  I  be  ; 

Take  not  away  my  robe  of  white  ! 
Now  from  the  lovely  Earth  I  flee 

Down  to  the  strong  abode  of  Night. 

In  peace  I  there  awhile  will  rest, 
Then  will  mine  eye  again  awake ; 

I  there  will  leave  the  snowy  vest, 
The  girdle  and  the  wreath  forsake. 

The  souls  in  that  angelic  sphere 
They  sex  without  regard  behold, 

Nor  robes,  nor  floating  garments  there 
The  bright  transfigured  form  enfold. 

*  See  the  LehrjaJire,  Book  8,  Chapter  2. 


MIGNOX.  US) 

From  trouble  free  I  lived,  'tis  true, 
Yet  I  have  known  enough  of  pain. 

Through  grief  too  early  old  I  grew ! 
Give  me  eternal  youth  again  ! 


120 


M  I  G  N  O  N  * 


WHO  only  love  have  known 

Can  know  my  pain  ! 
Of  pleasure  reft,  and  lone, 

My  sight  I  strain 
That  side  where  he  hath  flown, 

But  still  in  vain. 
Who  me  hath  loved  and  known 

Hath  fled  again. 
My  head  is  giddy  grown, 

And  burns  my  brain. 
Who  only  love  have  known 

Can  know  my  pain  ! 

*  See  the  LehrjaJire.  Book  4,  Chapter  11. 


THE     M  I  N  S  t  R  E  L  * 


"  WITHOUT  the  gate  what  hear  I  there, 
What  on  the  drawbridge  sound  ? 

The  music  let  before  us  here 
Within  our  hall  resound  !" 

Thus  spoke  the  king,  the  page  he  sped ; 

The  youth  returned,  the  monarch  said : 
"  Bring  here  the  old  man  in  !" 

"  My  lords,  by  me  ye  greeted  are, 

And  ye,  ye  lovely  dames ! 
What  gorgeous  heaven  !  star  on  star  ! 

Who  may  declare  their  names? 
Mid  grandeur  here,  and  state  sublime 
Ye  eyes  be  closed;  here  is  no  time 

The  ravished  sight  to  feed." 

*  See  the  Lelirjalire.  Book  2,  Chapter  11. 
16 


122  THE     MINSTREL. 

And  now  the  Minstrel  closed  his  eyes, 

Of  war  and  love  he  sang ; 
He  makes  the  warriors'  spirit  rise, 

Their  heads  the  beauties  hang. 
The  monarch,  whom  had  pleased  the  strain, 
As  guerdon  meet,  a  golden  chain 

Then  for  him  bade  them  bring. 

"  Give  not  to  me  the  chain  of  gold, 
The  chain  your  knights  may  take, 

The  knights  before  whose  bearing  bold 
Your  foes  their  lances  break. 

Or  let  it  else  your  chancellor  wear, 

The  golden  burden  let  him  bear. 
With  those  he  bears  e'en  now. 

"  I  sing  my  song,  as  sings  the  bird 
Which  'mong  the  branches  dwells  ; 

The  song  that  from  the  throat  is  poured, 
All  guerdon  far  excels  ; 

But  may  I  crave,  one  thing  I  ask  : 

In  purest  gold  let  me  a  flask 
Of  best  of  wine  be  brought." 


THE     MINSTREL.  128 

He  raised  the  cup,  he  drank  it  all : 

Oh,  sweet  refreshing  draught ! 
"  Oh  !    on  the  house  will  blessings  fall, 

Where  gifts  like  these  are  quaffed ! 
If  fare  ye  well,  then  think  on  me, 
And  let  your  thanks  as  ardent  he 

To  God,  as  mine  to  you." 


124 


GRIEF    IN    SOLITUDE* 


An  !  he  who  loves  a  lonesome  lot, 
His  wish  may  soon  obtain  ; 

All  live  and  love,  and  heed  him  not, 
And  leave  him  to  his  pain. 

Yea,  leave  me  to  my  woe ! 

And  if  true  solitude  could,  oh, 

By  me  be  known, 

I'd  then  be  not  alone. 

Alone  if  she  he  loves  may  be, 
A  youth  steals  near  to  know. 

And  so  there  creeps  on  lonely  me 
By  night  and  day  my  woe, 

*  See  the  LeJtrjaJire,  Book  2,  Chapter  13. 


GRIEF    IN     SOLITUDE.  125 

By  night  and  day  my  grief. 
Ah  !  could  I  find  relief 
From  sorrow  in  the  tomb, 
'Twould  leave  me  to  its  gloom  ! 


THE    BREAD    OF    TEARS* 


WHO  never  eat  in  tears  his  bread, 

Who  through  the  wretched  nights  hath  not 
Sat  lonely  weeping  on  his  bed, 

^N"e'er,  heavenly  powers,  on  you  hath  thought ! 

Ye  into  life  conduct  us  all, 

Ye  let  the  poor  one  lose  his  worth, 

Then  let  him  into  misery  fall : 
For  guilt  is  all  avenged  on  earth. 

*  See  the  LeJirjaJire,  Book  2,  Chapter  13. 


127 


FRAGMENTS    OF    SONG/' 


To  the  doors  I'll  softly  steal, 
Modest  bearing  I  will  show ; 

Pious  hands  will  give  a  meal, 
On  my  way  I  then  will  go. 

Happy  each  to  he  will  seem, 
When  before  him  I  appear ; 

In  his  eye  a  tear  will  gleam, 
I  not  know  what  calls  it  there. 


To  him  the  morning  sunbeams  shed 
Their  light  across  the  sky  in  flames, 

And  falling  wrecked  around  his  head 
Fair  Nature's  form  his  guilt  proclaims.! 

•-  See  the  Lekrjahre,  Book  5,  Chapter  14. 
f  See  ibid.     Book  4,  Chapter  1. 


128 


P  H  I  L  I  N  E  * 


SING  ye  not  in  mournful  strain 

Of  the  loneliness  of  night ; 
No,  ye  fair,  for  then  there  reign 

Social  gladness  and  delight. 

As  the  man  received  the  wife, 

As  his  fairest  half  to  be, 
Is  the  night  the  half  of  life, 

And  the  fairest  half  is  she. 

Happy  can  ye  be  by  day, 

Which  but  interrupts  our  bliss  ? 

Good  it  is  to  while  away  ; 
Good  it  is  for  nought  but  this. 

This  is  sung1  by  Philinc  in  one  of  the  most  agreeable  scenes  in  the 
jftfire.     See  Book  5,  Chapter  10. 


PHILINE.  129 

But  at  silent  evening,  when 

Lamps  with  softened  twilight  glow, 

And  from  mouth  to  mouth  there  then 
Wit  and  love  fast  overflow  ; 

When  the  wilful,  wanton  boy, 

Who  escapes  us  through  the  day, 
Midst  caresses  then  to  toy, 

Often  we  induce  to  stay  ; 

When  her  song  the  nightingale 

Warbling  near  by  lovers  hear, 
Which  to  broken  hearts  a  wail 

Seems  of  sorrow  and  despair  : 

What  sweet  thoughts  the  striking  clock 

Rouses  in  your  gentle  breast, 
When  midnight's  deliberate  stroke 

Safety  promises  and  rest ! 

On  the  tedious  day,  therefore, 

Mark  it,  dearest  friend,  aright ! 
Every  day  has  plagues  a  score, 

And  the  night  has  its  delight. 

o  o 

11 


130 


PHILINE'S     SON  G  .* 


THE  shepherd  for  the  dance  was  dressed 
With  chaplet,  scarf,  and  dandy  vest ; 

Was  sprucely  decked  the  beau. 
Tho  peasants  round  the  linden  had 
Already  swarmed,  and  danced  like  mad. 
Hurrah !  hurrah  ! 
Hurrah  !  hurrah  !  hurrah  ! 
So  went  the  fiddle  how. 

To  join  the  dance  he  pressed  along, 
And  with  his  elbow  'mid  the  throng 

A  girl  he  gave  a  blow ; 
Upon  him  turned  the  maiden  quick, 

;;~  When  the  Harper  first  appears  in  Wilhelm  Meister,  and  finishes  his 
own  song,  Philine  asks  him  if  he  knows  the  air,  "  The  shepherd  for  the 
dance  was  dressed"  The  old  man  plays,  and  she  sings  a  song,  which  is 
not  given  in  Meister,  but  is  found  in  Faust,  where  it  is  sung  by  the 
peasants  under  the  linden. 


PHILINE'S   SONG.  131 

And  said  :  "Now,  that's  a  stupid  trick  ! 
Hurrah  !  hurrah  ! 
Hurrah  !  hurrah  !  hurrah  ! 
Be  not  so  very  low !" 

But  swiftly  in  the  crowd  they  bound, 
And  right  and  left  they  waltz  around, 

And  skirts  a  flying  go. 
They  soon  grow  red,  they  soon  grow  warm, 
And  panting,  rest  them  arm  in  arm, 
Hurrah !  hurrah  ! 
Hurrah  !  hurrah  !  hurrah  ! 
And  hip  against  elbow. 

"Not  so  familiar,  please,"  she  said  ! 
"  For  many  a  maid  hatli  been  betrayed, 

And  falsely  left,  you  know." 
But  still  he  flattered  her  aside, 
And  from  the  linden  echoed  wide, 
Hurrah !  hurrah ! 
Hurrah  !  hurrah  !  hurrah  ! 
The  shouts  and  fiddle  bow. 


132 


THE    BA110N    AND    THE    POET. 


POOR  devil  I,  my  lord  baron,* 

I  envy  you  your  rank  so  great, 
Your  place  of  honor  near  the  throne, 

And  many  a  fair  and  broad  estate, 
Your  father's  castle  long  renowned, 
His  fowling-piece  and  hunting-ground. 

Poor  devil  me,  my  lord  baron, 

Me  envy  you,  so  it  appears, 
That  mother  Nature  on  her  son 

Hath  lavished  gifts  from  early  years. 
A  free  heart  I,  though  poor,  'tis  true, 
Was  born,  yet  not  a  dunce  like  you. 

*  In  order  to  preserve  the  form  of  the  original,  which  is  in  this  case  a 
part  of  the  wit,  to  the  word  "  Laron''  lias  Leen  given  the  pronunciation 
which  it  has  in  the  German,  i.e.  the  last  syllable  is  accented,  not  the  first. 


THE     BARON     AND     THE     POET.  133 

Xow  I  propose,  my  lord  baron, 

We  matters  leave  just  as  you  see  : 
Do  you  remain  your  father's  son, 

And  I  my  mother's  child  will  be. 
To  envy  then  let's  bid  adieu, 

Each  other's  honors  covet  not : 
No  place  upon  Parnassus  you, 

Nor  in  the  peerage,  I  your  lot. 


134 


THE    WANDERER'S    SONG* 


FROM  the  mountain  to  the  hills. 

Down  and  through  the  vale  along, 
There  the  air  a  fluttering  fills, 

Floats  around  a  sound  of  song. 
To  the  unchecked  wish  to  rove 

Counsel  and  delight  succeed ; 
Let  thy  striving  be  in  Love, 

And  thy  life,  let  it  be  Deed. 

Every  tie  is  torn  away  ; 

False  the  heart  where  I  relied  ; 
Can  I  know,  or  can  I  say 

What  mishap  may  yet  betide  ? 

*  See  the  Wanderjahre,  Book  3,  Chapter  1. 


THE   WANDERER'S   SONG.  135 

Now  I  part  and  wander  on  ; 

Like  a  widowed  one  I  mourn  ; 
To  another  'stead  the  one, 

Still  and  still  again  to  turn. 

Rest  not  of  the  soil  a  part ; 

In  the  wide  world  boldly  roam  ! 
Strong  of  arm  and  strong  of  heart, 

Everywhere  are  they  at  home. 
Where  we  in  the  sunshine  bask, 

Put  we  every  care  aside; 
Every  clime  to  give  we  ask, 

Therefore  is  the  world  so  wide. 


F  R  0  M 


F  A  U  S  T, 


18 


139 


THE    SONG   OF   THE   ARCHANGELS, 

IN    FAUST. 


RAPHAEL. 


THE  Sun  still  chants  his  ancient  song, 

Contending  with  his  brother  suns, 
And  thundering  in  his  path  along 

His  foreordained  course  he  runs. 
To  angels  givcth  strength  the  sight, 

Though  fathom  none  the  mystery  may ; 
Profound  the  mighty  works  and  bright, 

As  erst  upon  the  eldest  day. 


GABRIEL. 


The  Earth  whirls  round  in  splendid  state, 
With  wonderful  and  rapid  flight ; 

And  Eden's  glories  alternate 

With  the  deep,  awful  gloom  of  night ; 


140          THE  SONG  OF  THE  ARCHANGELS. 

Against  the  rocks'  firm  base  the  sea 
In  foaming  billows  wastes  its  force  ; 

And  onward  rock  and  ocean  flee 
In  everlasting  planet  course. 


M  I  C  II  A  E  L. 


And  howling  storms  a  war  maintain 

From  land  to  sea,  from  sea  to  land. 
And  raging  form  a  mighty  chain 

Around  of  deep  effect  and  grand. 
The  lightning's  havoc  flashes  there, 

Before  the  thunder's  path  it  plays  ; 
But,  Lord,  thy  servants,  they  revere 

The  peaceful  tenor  of  thy  days. 


THE     CHORUS. 


To  angels  giveth  strength  the  sight, 
Though  fathom  none  thy  mystery  may 

Sublime  are  all  thy  works  and  bright, 
As  erst  upon  the  eldest  day. 


141 


THE    KING    IN    THULE* 


IN  Tlmle  there  lived  of  old 

A  king  true  to  the  grave, 
To  whom  a  cup  of  gold 

His  mistress  dying  gave. 

He  cherished  nothing  more, 

He  drained  it  every  draught ; 
With  tears  his  eyes  ran  o'er, 

Whenever  he  from  it  quaffed. 

And  when  his  death  was  near, 

His  cities  he  reckoned  up  : 
All  gave  he  to  his  heir, 

But  gave  him  not  the  cup. 

Faithfulness,  even  unto  death,  says  Viehoff.  is  the  theme  of  the  poem, 


142  THE     KING     IN     THULE. 

Amid  his  warriors  all, 
At  royal  board  sat  he, 

In  his  forefathers'  hall 
In  his  castle  by  the  sea. 

There  the  old  carouser  stood, 
And  drank  of  draughts  his  last, 

And  down  into  the  flood 
The  sacred  goblet  cast. 

He  saw  it  plunge  and  fill, 
And  sink  deep  in  the  main. 

His  sinking  eye  grew  still ; 
Drank  never  a  drop  again. 


143 


G  R  E  T  C  H  E  N 


MY  peace  is  gone, 
My  heart  is  sad  ; 

Nor  e'er  again 
Shall  I  be  glad. 

Where  he's  not  near 
The  grave  is  there ; 
The  world  is  all 
To  me  but  gall. 

My  weary  head 
Alas  !  is  crazed ; 

My  wretched  soul 
Is  all  amazed. 


144  GRETCHEN. 


My  peace  is  gone, 

My  heart  is  sad  ; 
Nor  e'er  again 

Shall  I  be  glad. 

For  him  alone 

I  watch  the  long,  long  day, 
For  him  alone 

From  home  I  stray. 

His  lofty  step, 

His  noble  mien, 
His  mouth's  sweet  smile, 

His  flashing  een. 

What  magic  flow 

Of  words  is  his  ! 
His  thrilling  grasp, 

And  ah,  his  kiss  ! 

My  peace  is  gone, 

My  heart  is  sad ; 
Xor  e'er  again 

Shall  I  be  glad. 


GRETCHEN.  145 

To  be  with  him 

How  yearns  my  breast ! 
Ah,  could  I  hold 

Him  here  at  rest ! 

And  kiss  my  love 

So  long  I  would, 
Die  on  his  lips 

Away  I  should ! 


1!) 


146 


MEPHISTOPHELES    SINGS. 


WHAT  dost  thou  there, 

His  door  so  near, 

Sweet  Kitty  here, 
So  early  in  the  morning  ? 

Have,  have  a  care  ! 

Thou'lt  go  in  there, 

A  maiden  there, 
A  maiden  not  returning. 

Take,  maiden,  heed ! 

If  done  the  deed, 

Thy  shame  shall  speed, 

Thy  ruin  shall  not  linger  ! 
Him  make  not  blest, 
Thou  lovest  best, 
Till  he  hath  pressed 

The  ring  upon  thy  finger ! 


LEIPZIG   POEMS. 


149 


THE   BEAUTIFUL    NIGHT* 


Now  I  leave  this  little  place, 

My  beloved  maiden's  home, 
And  with  lonely,  silent  pace, 

Through  the  gloomy  forest  roam. 
Copse  and  oak  the  moon  breaks  through, 

Summer  winds  before  her  play, 
And  the  bending  birches  strew 

Incense  in  her  silver  wray. 

How  I  revel  in  the  air 

Of  this  lovely  summer  night ! 

*  This  was  one  of  Goethe's  earliest  pieces,  and  was  included  in  the  first 
volume  published  by  him,  as  were  also  those  entitled  Girlish  Wishes, 
Love's  Grave,  Motives,  Change,  Joy,  Joys  and  Dreams,  and  Two  Threats. 


150  THE     BEAUTIFUL     NIGHT. 

Oh,  how  sweet  to  feel  'tis  here 
What  perfects  the  soul's  delight ! 

Scarcely  I  can  grasp  the  bliss ; 
And  yet  I  would  give  to  thee, 

Heaven,  a  thousand  nights  like  this, 
Gave  my  love  but  one  to  me. 


151 


GIRLISH    WISHES. 


On,  found  could  there  be 
A  husband  for  me  ! 
How  nice  'twould  be,  ah  ! 
They'd  call  me  mamma ; 
No  more  I  would  sew, 
No  more  to  school  go ; 
My  servants  I'd  scold, 
By  no  one  controlled ; 
I'd  choose,  I  suppose, 
Clothes-maker  and  clothes ; 
I'd  go  and  make  calls, 
And  go  to  the  balls, 
And  not  ask  papa, 
Nor  even  mamma. 


152 


CHANGE. 


I  LIE  in  the  brook  on  the  pebbles,  how  clear  ! 

And  spread  out  my  arms  to  the  wave  coming  near ; 
It  wooingly  presses  my  amorous  breast, 

Then  lightly  it  sweeps  down  the  stream  to  the  main  ; 

Now  comes  on  the  second,  caressing  again  : 
And  so  in  each  alternate  pleasure  I'm  blest. 

And  yet,  and  so  sadly,  thou  wastest  away 

The  preciousest  moments  of  Life's  passing  day, 
Because  from  her  thoughts  thee  the  maiden  dismissed  ! 

The  times  that  have  vanished,  oh  once  more  repeat ! 

The  lips  of  the  second  will  kiss  e'en  so  sweet, 
As  scarcely  the  lips  of  the  first  one  have  kissed. 


153 


LOVE'S    GEAVE. 


WEEP,  maiden,  here  by  the  grave  of  Love;  here 
He  fell  to  earth  by  chance,  by  nothing  slain. 

But  is  he  truly  dead  ?     I  would  not  swear : 
A  chance,  a  nothing  wakes  him  oft  again. 


20 


154 


M  O  T  I  V  E  S. 


WHEN  to  a  girl,  who  to  us  cleaves, 
Her  mother  serious  lessons  Drives 

O 

Of  duty,  and  I  know  not  what, 
And  her  the  maiden  follows  not, 

But  flieth  in  still  warmer  fashion 
To  meet  our  eager  kisses  still ; 
"Why  then,  there  has  therein  self-will, 

'Tis  sure,  as  great  a  share  as  passion. 

But  if  the  mother  should  not  fail, 
But  on  the  docile  heart  prevail, 
And  of  her  teaching  proud,  she  sees, 
That  coy  the  maiden  from  us  flees ; 

She  understandeth  not  young  beauty 
For  if  do  that  a  girl  we  see, 
There  has  therein  inconstancy, 

'Tis  sure,  a  greater  share  than  duty. 


155 


J  O  Y. 


ABOUT  the  fountain  hovers 

The  changing  dragon-fly, 
New  tints  still,  still  discovers 

My  long-delighted  eye ; 
And  with  chameleon  sheen, 
Now  red,  now  hlue  and  green, 
And  blue  again,  'tis  seen. 
Oh,  could  I  be  but  nearer, 
To  see  its  colors  clearer ! 

It  floats  and  whirrs,  and  resteth  not ! 

See !  now  'tis  on  the  willow  tree. 
Ah,  I  the  pretty  thing  have  caught ! 
And  now  I  have  a  closer  view, 
I  only  see  a  sombre  blue — 

So  'tis,  tliou  analyst  of  joy,  with  thee  ! 


156 


JOYS    AND    DREAMS. 


OFT  to  the  altar  thou  hast  dreamed 
That  we  to  go  together  seemed, 

As  husband  I,  and  thou  as  bride. 
Oft  from  thy  lips  awake  I  snatched, 
"When  thou  unguarded  hast  not  watched, 

The  kisses  thou  hadst  else  denied. 

The  purest  joy  that  we  have  known, 
Of  many  a  happy  hour  hath  flown 

AVith  its  delight,  like  time,  the  bliss. 
That  I  enjoy,  what  boots  it  me  ? 
Like  dreams  the  warmest  kisses  flee, 

And  all  our  pleasures  like  a  kiss. 


157 


TWO    THREATS* 


MY  maiden  I  did  after  go, 
Once  deep  within  the  wood, 

And  fell  upon  her  neck,  when  "  Oh  !" 
She  threatened,  scream  she  would. 

Then  cried  I  proudly:  "  I  will  kill 
Him  who  to  come  shall  dare!" — 

"  Still !"  whispered  she  :  "  Beloved,  still ! 
Lest  some  one  thce  should  hear." 

Its  original  title  was,  The  Scream  :  from  the  Italian. 


SONGS. 


161 


THE    FA  HE  WELL. 


AH  !  let  mine  eye  the  farewell  say, 

Which  now  my  lips  in  vain  would  speak ; 

How  hard  to  tear  myself  away  ! 
And  yet  I  am  not  always  weak. 

How  sorrowful  in  this  dark  hour 
Is  e'en  the  sweetest  pledge  of  love  ! 

Thy  lip's  cold  kiss  hath  lost  its  power, 

Thy  hand's  faint  grasp  no  more  can  move. 

Ah,  once  a  playful,  stolen  kiss, 
What  rapture  did  it  with  it  bring ! 

There  fills  the  heart  with  joy  like  this, 
A  violet  plucked  in  early  spring. 
21 


162  THE     FAREWELL* 

But  garlands  now  no  more  I  braid, 
Now  roses  pluck  no  more  for  thee, 

It  now  is  Spring,  beloved  maid, 
But  Autumn  'tis,  alas,  to  me  ! 


103 


TO    THE    DISTANT* 


AND  have  I  truly  lost  thee,  then  ? 

Oh  fairest !  from  me  hast  thou  flown  ? 
In  Memory's  ear  there  rings  again 

Thine  every  once  familiar  tone. 

As  when  at  morn  the  traveller's  eye 
All  vainly  pierces  through  the  air, 

When,  hidden  in  the  azure  sky, 
The  lark  his  song  is  singing  there  : 

So  longing,  love,  thy  form  to  see 

Through  field  and  wood  my  sight  I  strain  ; 
In  every  song  I  call  on  thee  : 

Beloved  !  come  to  me  again  ! 

"x"  Supposed  to  refer  to  Frederica. 


164 


BY    THE    RIVER. 


To  the  ocean  of  oblivion  you, 

My  cherished  songs,  the  stream  shall  bring  ! 
You  no  delighted  youth  anew, 

Nor  maiden  in  her  bloom  shall  sing. 

'Twas  of  my  love  ye  sang  alone  ; 

But  now  her  words  my  love  deride. 
The  water  ye  were  written  on  ; 

Away  with  it  then  also  glide. 


165 


MARC  H. 


WE'VE  had  of  snow  a  fall, 

For  time  it  is  not  yet, 
That  by  the  blossoms  all, 
That  by  the  blossoms  all, 
Our  gladdened  sight  be  met. 

The  sunshine  brightly  plays 
With  soft  deceiving  light. 

O         O 

The  swallow  too  betrays, 

The  swallow  too  betrays, 

Alone  upon  its  flight ! 


16G  MARCH. 


E'en  if  the  spring  be  near, 

Lone  should  it  gladden  me  ? 
But  come  we  in  a  pair, 
But  come  we  in  a  pair, 
At  once  'twill  summer  be. 


THE    SHEPHERD* 


THERE  was  a  lazy  swain, 
Of  seven  sleepers'  strain, 
Him  worried  not  his  sheep. 

His  heart  a  maiden  caught : 
Lorn  was  the  shepherd's  lot, 
Gone  appetite  and  sleep  ! 

Abroad  it  drove  the  wight, 
The  stars  he  counts  at  night, 
And  o'er  his  love  must  weep. 

^:  This  song  is  among  the  collected  "  Liedeiy'  but  it  is  also  in  the  Sing- 
spieL  Jei'ii  nnd  P/dtdy,  where  it  is  sung  by  Thomas  in  derision  of  Jery's 
melancholy. 


168  THE     SHEPHERD. 


But  now  she  him  hath  ta'en, 
It  all  is  come  again, 

Thirst,  appetite,  and  sleep. 


169 


THE  HUNTSMAN'S  EVENING  SONG. 


I  SILENT  through  the  meadows  stray, 

My  gun  upon  my  arm, 
And  sweetly  seems  thy  form  to  play, 

Before  mine  eyes  thy  form. 

Perchance  thou  calmly  too  dost  rove 
Sweet  field  and  valley  through, 

And  doth  my  passing  form  not  move 
Sometimes  before  thee  too  ? 

Of  him,  who  roameth  through  the  earth, 

Of  joy  and  hope  bereft, 
To  East  and  West  who  wanders  forth, 

Because  he  thee  hath  left. 
22 


170  THE     HUNTS  MANS    EVENING     SONG. 

It  seerns,  whene'er  I  think  on  thee, 
Like  gazing  on  the  moon  ; 

A  peaceful  calmness  comes  to  me, 
I  know  not  whence  the  boon. 


171 


T  PI  E    PRUDE* 


ON  a  lovely  springtime  morning 
Passed  the  shepherdess  and  sung, 

Young  and  fair,  and  sorrow  scorning, 
Till  it  through  the  meadows  rung, 
So  la  la  !  leralla,  &c. 

Thyrsis  for  a  kiss  made  offer 

Two,  three  lambs,  upon  the  spot ; 

Roguish  smiled  she  at  the  proffer  ; 
Laughed  and  sung,  but  yielded  not, 
So  la  la  !  leralla,  &c. 

*  This  song  and  the  next  one  were  written  for  introduction  into  an  opera 
brought  out  at  the  Weimar  Theatre. 


172  THE     PRUDE. 

Ribbons  now  another  tendered, 
Offered  then  his  heart  a  third  ; 

She  for  heart  and  ribbons  rendered, 
As  for  lambs,  a  jesting  word, 

But  la  la !  leralla,  &c. 


THE    CONVERT. 


WHEN  the  evening  sky  was  glowing, 
Still  I  passed  the  wood  along, 

Damon  there  his  flute  was  blowing  ; 
Through  the  rocks  the  echoes  rung, 
So  la  la,  &c. 

Down  beside  him  there  he  drew  me, 
Sweetly  kissed  me  then  the  swain  ; 

And  I  bid  him,  and  he  blew  me, 
Gentle  youth,  his  strains  again, 
So  la  la,  &c. 


hath  peace  my  heart  forsaken, 
All  my  pleasures  disappear, 
And  there  in  mine  ears  can  waken 
Only  now  the  sweet  old  air, 

So  la  la,  leralla,  &c. 


174 


IN    S  U  M  M  E  R  * 


How  mead  and  field 

With,  dew  are  filled  ! 

What  pearly  showers 

Weigh  down  the  flowers  ! 

How  through  the  trees 

Fresh  blows  the  breeze  ! 
How  sweetly  in  the  morning  ray 
The  warbling  birds  salute  the  day  ! 

But  ah  !  where  I 
My  love  stood  by, 

*  This  poem  was  first  printed  anonymously  in  a  periodical.  Later  it 
was  claimed  by  both  Jacobi  and  Goethe.  It  is  included  in  Goethe's  works, 
but  it  is  not  settled  that  he  was  the  author  of  it.  See  Viehoff-Goethe 
erlaiitert. 


IN     SUMMER.  175 

Yon  room  so  small, 

And  mean  withal. 

So  deep  amid 

The  leaflets  hid, 

Where  was  the  bright  Earth  far  and  wide, 
With  all  its  summer  morning  pride  ! 


170 


MAY    SON  G. 


'TwixT  the  wheat  and  corn, 
'Twixt  the  hedge  and  thorn 

'Twixt  the  grass  and  tree, 
Where  goes  sweetheart  ? 

That  tell  me  ! 

Found  my  love 

Not  at  home  ; 
Gone  the  dove 

Hath  to  roam. 
Blooms  and  blows 

Bright  the  M ay  ; 
Darling  goes 

Blithe  and  gay. 


MAY    SONG.  177 

By  the  rocky  brook, 
Where  that  kiss  I  took, 
That  first  in  the  grass, 
Somewhat  I  see  ! 
Is  that  she  ? 


23 


178 


THE    SPIRIT'S    GREETING* 


HIGH  on  the  ancient  turret  stands 

The  hero's  noble  spectre  form ; 
And  as  the  bark  sweeps  by  his  lands, 

He  bids  it  speed  against  the  storm. 

"  These  sinews  once  were  powerful, 
This  heart  as  steadfast  was  and  wild, 

These  bones  of  warrior's  marrow  full, 
With  generous  wine  my  goblet  filled  ;" 

*  In  the  summer  of  1774,  Goethe  made  a  journey  with  Lavater  and 
Basedovv  along  the  Rhine,  and  coming  down  the  Lahn  to  Coblentz,  at  the 
sight  of  a  remarkable  castle  ruin,  he  wrote  this  piece,  which  he  says  was 
admired.  The  poem  was  written  in  Lips'  Album,  who  accompanied  Lava 
ter  as  draughtsman. 

The  moral  which  the  spirit  intends  to  point  is  not  very  obvious. 


THE   SPIRIT'S   GREETING. 

"  The  half  my  life  I  passed  in  fray, 
The  other  half  spun  out  at  rest, 

But,  little  bark,  thou  on  thy  way, 
The  waves  shall  ever,  ever  breast !" 


180 


NIGHT.* 


FAIREST  half  of  life,  oh  Night ! 

Day's  alluring,  lovely  friend, 
That  thy  sable  mantle  might, 

Falling,  on  my  form  descend  ! 

In  young  Beauty's  arms  rewarded, 
Resteth  now  contented  love  ; 

And  to  passion  disregarded, 
After  lonely  longing  past, 
Dreams  love's  image  bring  at  last. 

*  In  the  fourth  act  of  the  vaudeville,  Scherz,  List  und  Itache,  Scapin 
and  his  wife  invoke  the  Night  to  cover  their  deeds  ;  and  sing  its  praises. 
These  verses,  a  part  of  their  eulogy,- deserve  to  be  rescued  from  the  com 
panionship  in  which  they  occur. 


NIGHT.  181 


Fairest  half  of  life,  oh  Night ! 

Day's  alluring,  lovely  friend, 
That  thy  sable  mantle  might, 

Falling,  on  my  form  descend  ! 


182 


NEARNESS  OF  THE  BELOVED. 


I  THINK  of  thee,  when  the  sun's  midday  rays 

From  Ocean  beam  ; 
I  think  of  thee,  when  the  faint  moonlight  plays 

Across  the  stream. 

I  see  thee,  when  upon  the  distant  way 

The  dust  blows  high  ; 
In  darkness,  when  on  lonely  path  astray 

We  fearful  fly. 

I  hear  thee  too,  whene'er  with  hollow  roar 

The  billows  rise ; 
Ofttimes  I  listen,  when  in  grove  obscure 

The  last  sound  dies. 


NEARNESS  OF  THE  BELOVED.  183 

I  am  near  thee,  however  far  thou  art, 

Yea,  thou  art  near  ! 
The  sun  goes  down,  soon  starlight  glads  my  heart. 

Would  thou  wert  here  ! 


184 


TO      L  I  N  A.* 


BELOVED,  if  e'er  chance  permit 

These  songs  to  reach  again  thy  hand, 

Deign  at  thy  harpsichord  to  sit, 

Where  once  thy  friend  was  wont  to  stand. 

Let  then  its  chords  with  spirit  ring, 
The  words  then  in  the  volume  see  ; 

But  read  them  not !  still  ever  sing, 
And  every  leaf  shall  he  for  thee  ! 

For  ah  !  how  sadly  to  mine  eye 

Must,  black  on  white,  that  song  appear, 

Which  from  thy  lips,  can  deify, 

That  frorn  thy  lips,  a  heart  can  tear  ! 

*  This  poem  is  supposed  by  Viehoff  to  have  reference  to  Lotte,  but  on 
insufficient  grounds. 


185 


MAY    SONG. 


How  nature  is 

With  beauty  filled  ! 
How  bright  the  sun  ! 

How  smiles  the  field  ! 

From  every  twig 
The  blossoms  burst, 

A  thousand  songs 
From  every  hurst. 

And  love  and  mirth 
From  every  breast. 

Oh  sun  !  Oh  earth  ! 
Oh  joy!  Oh  rest! 
24 


186  MAY     SONG. 

Oh  love  !  Oh  love  ! 

So  golden  bright, 
Like  morning  clouds 

On  yonder  height ! 

Thou  blessest  all 
The  fertile  ground, 

With  swelling  buds 
The  world  around. 

Oh  maiden  !  maid  ! 

How  love  I  thee  ! 
How  bright  thine  eye  ! 

How  lov'st  thou  me  ! 

So  loves  the  lark 

The  air  and  song, 
So  morning  flowers 


For  breezes  long, 


As  I  love  thee 

With  warmth  and  truth, 


MAY    SONG.  187 

Thou  who  giv'st  joy 

And  strength  and  youth 

For  every  song 

And  dance  to  me. 
As  me  thou  lov'st 

Blest  may'st  thou  be  ! 


188 


SELF-DECEPTION. 


MY  neighbor's  curtain  to  and  fro 

Forever  moving  keeps. 
To  see  if  I'm  at  home  or  no, 

Across  the  way  she  peeps. 

And  if  the  jealous  humor  too, 
Which  I  indulged  to-day, 

As  now  it  will  henceforward  do, 
Still  in  my  heart  has  sway, 

Alas,  I  see,  no  thoughts  like  these 
The  lovely  girl  betrays. 

It  only  is  the  evening  breeze, 
Which  with  the  curtain  plays. 


189 


NOVEMBER     SONG. 


To  th'  archer  sing,  but  not  to  him, 

To  whom  the  sun  flies  on, 
Through  whom  his  distant  face  is  dim, 

'With  clouds  across  it  drawn  ; 

But  sacred  to  the  boy  this  song, 
Who  'midst  the  roses  games, 

And  who  the  gentle  hearts  among 
His  timely  arrow  aims. 

To  us  through  him  the  winter's  eve, 

So  dreary  else  and  tame, 
Full  many  a  cherished  friend  doth  give 

And  many  a  charming  dame. 


100  NOVEMBER     SONG. 

Henceforward  shall  the  radiant  child 
Among  the  stars  be  met, 

And  on  us  kindly  shall  and  mild 
Forever  rise  and  set. 


101 


S  Y  M  P  A  T  H  Y.* 


WHEN  the  vineyard  blossoms  blow, 
In  the  cask  then  moves  the  wine ; 

When  again  the  roses  glow, 
I  cannot  my  heart  divine. 

Down  my  cheeks  run  tears  of  fire, 

Leave  or  do  I  what  I  may ; 
But  an  undefined  desire 

Feel  I  through  my  bosom  play. 

*  "  It  is  said,  that  there  is  a  sympathy  between  the  wine  in  the  cellar, 
and  the  vine.  The  former  is  observed  to  work  in  a  remarkable  manner, 
when  the  vine  puts  forth  its  buds." — Redding  on  Wines. 

Henderson  explains  it:  "In  spring,  the  renewal  of  fermentation  is 
produced  by  the  transition  from  cold  to  heat." — Hend.  on  Wines. 

This  influence  was  not  confined  to  the  vine.  "  According  to  the  old 
philosophers,  the  water  distilled  from  roses  suffered  in  its  strength  during 
the  blossoming  of  the  rose." — Ricliter's  Hesperus,  34°  Hundsposttag. 


192  SYMPATHY. 


And  confess  I  must  at  last, 

When  I  think,  that  it  must  be, 

That  in  such  sweet  seasons  past, 
Doris  once  love  felt  for  me. 


193 


APRIL,  OR    SPEAKING   EYES. 


EYES,  ye  eyes,  what  do  ye  say  ? 
Charming  are  your  words,  I  own, 
Words  of  clearest,  sweetest  tone ; 

And  ye  ask  the  same  sweet  way. 

But  I  think  I  have  divined : 

In  the  depths  of  those  bright  eyes, 
True  and  fond,  a  heart  there  lies, 

Now  o'er  to  itself  resigned, 

Which  with  joy  would  overflow, 
Mid  so  many  dull  and  blind, 
One  dear  glance  at  last  to  find, 

Which  would  how  to  prize  it  know. 

And  the  while  that  I  your  cipher 
Deeply  study  to  explain, 
Do  ye  also,  bright  eyes,  deign 

My  own  glances  to  decipher ! 

25 


194 


WITH    A    GOLD    CHAIN* 


A  CHAINLET  this  to  thcG  will  bring, 
Accustomed  pliantly  to  fold, 

That  longs  about  thy  neck  to  cling 
With  many  hundred  links  of  gold. 

Vouchsafe  the  fool  its  wish,  I  pray, 
It  is  not  bold — a  harmless  chain  ; 

With  it  thy  neck  thou'lt  grace  by  day, 
And  cast  it  off'  at  eve 


But  brings  to  thee  some  one  that  chain, 
Of  stronger  hold  and  greater  weight, 

I  shall,  Lisette,  not  blame  thee  then, 
If  thou  awhile  shouldst  hesitate. 

*  The  commentators  do  not  attempt  to  discover  what  these  two  chains 
may  symbolize.  Perhaps  the  lighter  is  Love,  the  heavier  Marriage.  It  is 
not  known  who  Lisette  was. 


195 


THE    WILD    ROSE* 


ONCE  a  youth  a  rosebud  found, 

Rosebud  on  the  lea, 
So  with  morning  beauty  crowned, 
Nearer  he  did  quickly  bound, 

Saw  't  delighted  he. 
Rosebud,  rosebud,  rosebud  red, 

Rosebud  on  the  lea. 

Said  the  youth  :  "  I'll  pluck  thee  now, 
Rosebud  on  the  lea  !" 

*  This  poem  appears  in  Herder's  collection  of  popular  songs  in  a  form 
scarcely  different  from  that  in  Goethe's  Poems.  Both  Lehmann  (Goethe's 
Liebe,  tfrc.),  and  Viehoff  (Goethe  erlautert)  speak  of  it  as  obtained  by 
Herder,  "  aus  dem  Munde  des  Volkes."  A  note  in  Simrock's  Volkslieder 
says,  that  it  was  communicated  to  Herder  by  Goethe,  and  that  it  is  a 
genuine  Volkslied.  And  yet  it  is  one  of  the  most  admired  of  Goethe's 
songs. 


196  THE     WILD     ROSE. 

Rosebud  said :  "I'll  stick,  I  vow, 
That  thou'lt  not  forget  I  trow, 

It  shall  never  be. 
Rosebud,  rosebud,  rosebud  red, 

Rosebud  on  the  lea." 

Still  the  wanton  youth  would  pluck 
Th'  rosebud  on  the  lea, 

Rosebud  struggled  hard  and  stuck, 

Xo  one  helped  her  evil  luck; 
It  must  even  be. 

Rosebud,  rosebud,  rosebud  red, 
Rosebud  on  the  lea. 


197 


THE    SHEPHERD'S    LAMENT* 


UP  yonder  upon  the  hill, 

There  leaning  upon  my  crook, 

I  a  thousand  times  stand  still, 
And  down  in  the  valley  look. 

The  flocks  I  follow  then, 

My  dog  he  watches  them  well ; 

I've  come  down  here  to  the  plain, 
And  how  I  cannot  tell. 

~;:"  Goethe  pretended  to  each  of  two  ladies,  that  he  had  composed  this 
poem  for  her.  Unfortunately,  one  of  them  boasting  to  the  other  of  the 
fact,  the  treachery  was  discovered;  and  the  poet  badly  scolded.  The 
Baroness  Egloffstem  is  mentioned  by  Vehse,  as  the  lady  to  whom  it  was 
dedicated ;  while  Viehoff  says,  the  Countess  of  E.  Probably  the  same 
person. 


198 


The  meadow  where'er  I  go 
"With  lovely  flow'rets  is  gay  ; 

I  pluck  them,  but  do  not  know 
To  whom  to  give  them  away. 

And  thunder  and  tempest  and  rain 
I  pass  here  under  the  tree  ; 

But  shut  is  the  door  in  the  glen  ; 
Alas,  'tis  a  dream  to  me  ! 

Above  that  cottage  yon 

A  beautiful  rainbow  stands  ! 

But  she  away  is  gone, 

Away  to  the  stranger  lands. 

Away  from  me  she  has  gone, 
Perhaps  far  over  the  lake. 

Move  on,  ye  sheep,  move  on  ! 
The  shepherd's  heart  will  break. 


199 


THE    WEST    WIND* 


AH  !  thy  moist  and  balmy  wing, 
West  Wind,  how  I  envy  thee  : 

Tidings  thou  to  him  canst  bring, 
How  I  mourn  from  him  to  be  ! 

Softly  float  thy  pinions  by, 
Longing  wakening  in  my  breast ; 

*  This  song  and  the  three  following  are  from  the  Divan,  an  entire  vo 
lume  of  minor  poems,  written  in  an  Eastern  spirit  and  manner.  There  is 
but  little  to  please  in  the  volume,  and  these  pieces  have  been  selected  as 
among  the  best. 

At  the  close  of  a  social  evening,  when  the  first  of  these  songs  was  sung 
by  Madame  Eberwein,  whose  husband  had  set  to  music  many  of  the  pieces 
from  the  Divan,  Goethe  is  reported  by  Eckermann  as  saying  :  "  1  have 
observed  this  evening  that  these  songs  of  the  Divan  have  lost  all  relation 
to  me.  Whatever  is  Oriental  and  passionate  in  them  lives  in  me  no  longer. 
It  is  like  the  sloughed  skin  of  the  snake,  which  he  has  left  lying  in  the 
path.;' 


200  THE     WEST     WIND. 

And  in  tears  beneath  thee  lie 

Blossom,  field,  and  mountain  crest. 

But  thy  soft  and  soothing  breath 
Cools  my  weeping  eyelids'  pain  ; 

Ah  !  in  grief  I'd  find  my  death, 
Hoped  I  not  to  meet  again. 

Hasten  to  my  loved  one,  then, 
Gently  tell  him  all  I  feel ; 

But  lest  thou  shouldst  give  him  pain, 
All  my  griefs  from  him  conceal. 

Say  to  him,  but  blushing  say, 
Only  in  his  love  I  live  ; 

Joy  in  love  ancl  life  to-day 

Would  to  me  his  presence  give. 


201 


SEPARATION. 


IN  thy  glances  to  rejoice, 

On  thy  breast,  and  in  thy  kiss, 

Listening  to  thy  gentle  voice 
Was  my  last  and  earliest  bliss. 

Yestern  'twas,  alas,  the  last ; 

Light  mine  eyes  deserted  then  ; 
Every  pleasure  of  the  past 
Now  a  burden  is  and  pain. 

Should  the  fates  not  heed  my  prayers 

To  again  unite  us  soon, 
Give  occasion  but  for  tears 

Would  to  me  world,  sun,  and  moon, 

26 


THE    THIEF. 


OCCASION  makes  not  thieves  or  theft, 
The  greatest  thief  of  all  is  she  ; 

For  what  there  in  my  heart  was  left 
Of  love,  hath  stolen  she  from  me. 

And  all  of  it  to  thee  she  gave, 
The  all  that  I  of  life  possessed, 

That  I,  impoverished,  life  must  crave 
From  thee,  and  on  thy  mercy  rest, 

Already  is  with  pity  fraught 
The  pearly  lustre  of  thine  eye, 

And  I  a  new  and  happier  lot 

Henceforth  shall  in  thine  arms  enjoy. 


203 


LIFE,    Oil   THE    GAME    OF   GOOSE. 


OUR  life  a  game  of  goose  is  like  : 

The  more  we  forward  flee, 
The  sooner  we  the  goal  will  strike 

Where  no  one  likes  to  be. 

That  geese  are  stupid,  tell  us  men  : 

Believe  them  not,  I  say ; 
For  one  looks  backwards  now  and  then, 

To  guide  me  on  the  way. 

On  earth,  where  onward  hurry  all, 

Quite  different  'tis,  we  find  : 
If  one  should  stumble  or  should  fall, 

Not  one  would  look  behind. 


SONNETS    AND    ELEGIES 


207 


SHE    WRITES* 


A  GLANCE  from  thy  dear  eyes  deep  in  mine  own, 
A  kiss  from  thy  sweet  lips  impressed  on  mine — 
Could  aught  by  me,  who  in  my  heart  enshrine 

Such  knowledge,  be  beside  as  joyous  known  ? 

Away  from  thee,  estranged,  bereaved,  and  lone, 
Within  one  circle  I  my  thoughts  confine, 
And  ever  to  that  moment  they  incline, 

The  only  one  ;  then  I  must  weep  and  moan. 
The  tears  soon  unperceived  again  are  dry  : 

*  These  sonnets  have  been  claimed  by  Bettina  Brentano  and  her  friends, 
as  having  been  addressed  to  her ;  and  as  having  been  constructed  out  01 
the  substance  of  her  letters  to  Goethe.  In  Lewes's  Life,  the  honor  of 
having  called  them  forth  is  given  to  Minna  Herzlieb,  whom  Goethe 
represented  as  Ottilie  in  the  Elective  Affinities.  No  one  can  read  the 
Brentano  correspondence,  without  being  persuaded  that  the  letters  were 
formed  out  of  the  sonnets,  or  the  sonnets  out  of  the  letters. 


208  SHE     WRITES. 

His  love,  I  think,  comes  here  to  this  retreat— 
Shouldst  thou  not  back  again  to  him  reach  thine  ? 

Ah  !  hear  the  lisping  of  my  love's  reply  ; 
My  one  joy  on  earth  is  thy  wish  to  meet, 
To  me  so  friendly  ;  give  thy  friend  a  sign  ! 


209 


SHE   WRITES   AGAIN. 


WHY  do  I  to  my  pen  return  again  ? 

That,  dearest,  not  so  closely  ask,  I  pray  : 
For  truly  I  to  thee  have  nought  to  say  ; 

But  if  it  come  to  thee  'tis  not  in  vain. 

What  I  send  thee  shall,  since  I  must  remain, 
Mine  undivided  heart  "before  thee  lay, 
And  hopes  and  fears,  transports  and  joys  display, 

To  which  nor  beginning  nor  end  pertain. 
Nought  of  to-day  confide  to  thee  I  would, 

How  turns  in  fancies,  wishes,  hopes,  and  thought, 

My  faithful  heart  my  absent  friend  to  greet : 
So  once  to  see  thee  I  before  thee  stood, 

And  silent  stood.     Could  I  have  spoken  aught  ? 
Then  was  my  being  in  itself  complete. 


210 


SHE   CANNOT   CEASE. 


IF  I  should  send  the  unwritten  page  to  thee, 

Nor  letters  I  should  first  upon  it  trace, 

Perchance  for  sport  thou'dst  fill  the  vacant  space, 
And  send  it  hack  again  to  happy  me. 
Should  I  behold  the  azure  cover  then  ; 

How  curious,  as  becomes  a  woman,  I 

Would  tear  it,  so  that  nought  should  'scape  mine  eye, 
And  read  what  once  I  raptured  heard  again  : 

Siveet  heart  !  Mine  only  life  !  My  precious  dove  ! 
As  thou  didst  spoil  me,  and  so  kindly  still 

With  honied  words  my  longing  heart  before. 

And  e'en  I  seemed  to  read  those  whispers,  love, 
With  which  so  fondly  thou  my  soul  clidst  fill, 

And  conscious  beauty  gav'st  me  evermore. 


211 


THE   MAIDEN    SPEAKS. 


THOU  art  so  grave,  beloved  !     To  thy  form 

Of  marble  here  I  well  might  thee  compare  ; 

Thou  dost  like  that  a  lifeless  aspect  wear  ; 
And  by  thy  side  the  very  stone  seems  warm. 
Behind  his  shield  a  foe  conceals  his  face, 

An  open  brow  we  in  a  friend  should  see. 

I  seek  thee,  but  thou  striv'st  t'  escape  from  me  ; 
Ah  !  stay,  nor  to  thine  image  yield  thy  place. 

To  which  of  them  shall  I  address  me  now  ? 

Must  I  in  each  be  met  by  icy  brow, 
Though  lifeless  this,  and  thou  with  life  be  graced  ? 
In  brief,  that  I  no  more  my  words  may  waste, 

This  lifeless  statue  I  will  clasp  and  kiss, 

Till  thou  art  jealous  of  the  marble's  bliss. 


212 


THE   RESOLUTION. 


SHOULD  I  by  habit  then  to  her  be  bound  ? 

That  would  at  last  but  misery  be  to  me. 

To-day  then  I  will  strive  to  set  me  free, 
Nor  at  the  accustomed  beauty's  side  be  found. 
But  how  shall  I  atone  to  thee,  my  heart, 

That  on  it  I  with  thee  do  not  advise  ? 

Well  then !  come  here  !  And  we  will  breathe  our  sighs 
In  pensive  tones,  that  we  from  her  must  part. 
See,  it  can  be  done  !  At  the  poet's  call, 

Melodious  tones  quick  through  the  lyre  swell, 

To  make  to  love  a  cordial  offering. 
'Twas  scarcely  thought,  and  see  !  'tis  finished  all ; 

But  now,  what  then  ? — At  once,  methinks,  'twere  well 
Before  herself  we  hastened  it  to  sing. 


213 


FRIENDLY   MEETING. 


ENFOLDED  in  my  ample  cloak,  at  night 

Along  the  mountain  pathway's  rough  descent, 
Down  to  the  wintry  plains  below  I  went, 

My  mind  disturbed,  and  seeking  peace  in  flight. 

The  newborn  day  was  suddenly  revealed  : 
A  maiden  came,  in  glorious  heavenly  bloom  ; 
A  type  she  was  of  those  sweet  women,  whom 

The  poet  dreams.     Then  was  my  longing  stilled. 
But  turned  myself  away,  and  let  her  go, 
And  wrapped  me  closer  in  the  folds,  as  though 

I  proudly  in  myself  myself  would  warm  ; 

But  followed  still.     She  stood.     My  heart  by  storm 
Was  ta'en  !  ~Nor  in  my  cloak  could  longer  stay: 
I  cast  it  off,  and  in  my  arms  she  lay. 


214 


G  E  O  W  T  II. 


A  GENTLE-MANNERED  child,  on  many  a  morn, 

You  skipped  with  me  through  meadow,  grass,  and  corn, 

"  For  such  a  daughter,  with  what  tender  care, 

As  father  blessing  I  would  fain  prepare  !" 

And  when  at  length  you  into  life  'gan  look, 

You  duties  for  your  highest  pleasure  took. 

"  So  dear  a  sister  !  Safe  I  then  would  be  : 

How  I  in  her  would  trust,  and  she  in  me  !" 

But  nought  can  now  your  lovely  growth  restrain, 

And  in  my  breast  I  feel  love's  keenest  pain. 

Shall  I  embrace  the  maid,  to  calm  my  heart  ? 

Ah  !  as  a  princess  now  to  me  thou  art : 

By  beauty  thou  hast  been  so  princely  made, 

Before  one  fleeting  glance  I  bow  my  head. 


215 


WARNING. 


AT  judgment,  when  the  final  trump  is  heard, 
Aud  we  no  longer  on  the  earth  may  live, 
We  shall  be  called  upon  account  to  give, 

Before  our  Judge,  of  every  idle  word. 

With  all  those  words,  how  will  it  be  now  there, 
In  which  to  thee  my  hope  to  win  thy  heart 
I  did  so  full  of  tenderness  impart, 

Since  all  have  fall'n  unheeded  on  thine  ear  ? 
Examine  then  thy  conscience,  dearest  maid  ! 
Consider  well  how  long  thou  hast  delayed, 

Lest  such  misfortune  should  the  world  befall. 

For  if  I  then  must  give  account  of  all, 
That  I  to  thee  did  ever  vainly  say, 
A  year  at  least  will  last  the  judgment  day. 


216 


ELEGY* 


YE  stones,  oil  tell,  oh  make  me,  ye  palaces,  wise  ! 

Oh  speak,  ye  ways,  one  word  !  Dost  not,  oh  Genius,  rise  ? 

Yea  all,  eternal  Rome,  within  thy  holy  wall 

Is  quick  with  life  ;  to  me  alone  is  silent  all. 

Oh  !  who  will  whisper  at  what  window  here  above 

The  maiden  I  may  find,  who  fired  my  soul  with  love  ? 

*  A  letter  from  Schiller  to  Korner,  quoted  by  Vehse,  speaks  of  "  a  young 
Roman  maiden  of  low  origin,"  with  whom  G.  had  had  an  engagement, 
and  whom  he  had  even  married.  On  this  Vehse  remarks,  that  it  seems  to 
refer  to  the  young  Milanese,  whom  Goethe  had  given  up  on  learning  that 
she  was  betrothed.  In  Lewes's  Life,  it  is  denied  that  the  G.  in  Schiller's 
letter  refers  to  Goethe.  The  poems  called  the  Roman  Elegies  are,  in  Lewes 
and  Viehoff,  stated  to  have  been  addressed  to  Christiane  Vulpius  ;  but  it  is 
possible,  that  the  poet  had  also  in  his  mind  "  Die  sclwne  Mailanderin"  of 
the  Italian  journey. 


ELEGY.  217 

Know  I  not  yet  the  paths,  whereby  so  many  an  hour 
Of  precious  time  I  gave  to  seek  and  leave  her  bower  ? 
Yet  palace,  ruin,  church,  and  column  I  did  scan, 
As  profits  by  his  travel  a  judicious  man. 
But  soon  'tis  past ;  then  will  one  only  temple  be, 
The  shrine  of  Love,  that  opens  to  its  devotee. 
A  world  thou  art,  oh  Rome  ;  but  were  they  not  the  home 
Of  love,  the  world  were  not  the  world,  nor  Rome  were 
Rome. 


28 


218 


ELEGY. 


REPENT  not,  dearest,  that  so  quickly  thou  to  me 
Didst  yield  !     Believe,  not  boldly  do  I  think  of  thee. 
Alike  wound  not  the  shafts  of  love  :  but  scratch  a  part, 
And  from  the  subtle  poison  sickens  long  the  heart. 
But  feathered  strong,  with  polished  point  and  fatal  aim 
Drive  others  deeply  home,  and  soon  the  blood  inflame. 
In  th'  old  heroic  times,  when  o'er  the  gods  above 
Love  ruled,  love  followed  sight,  fruition  followed  love. 
Think'st  thou  that  Venus  long  against  her  passion  strove, 
When  once  Anchises  pleased  her  in  the  Idsean  grove  ? 
Had  Luna  tarried,  ere  the  sleeping  youth  she  kissed, 
Her  joy  she  soon  had  through  Aurora's  envy  missed. 
'Mid  festal  sounds  Leander  met  fair  Hero's  sight, 
And  in  the  flood  plunged  th'  ardent  lover  night  by  night. 


ELEGY.  219 

The  royal  virgin,  Ilia,  down  to  Tiber's  strand 
Descends,  and  grasps  the  maid  the  god's  enamoured  hand. 
Thus  Mars  his  sons  begot !  Behold  !  the  godlike  twins 
A  she-wolf  feeds,  and  o'er  the  world  Rome  empire  wins. 


220 


ELEGY. 


DISGUSTS  me  many  a  sound,  but  most  to  hear 

A  dog  I  hate  ;  its  yelping  rends  my  ear. 

One  only  dog  oft  hear  I  with  delight : 

The  dog,  which  guards  my  neighbor's  house  by  night. 

For  as  she  stole  to  me,  my  own  sweet  maid 

He  barked  at  once,  and  near  our  love  betrayed. 

And  barks  he  now,  I  think  :  'tis  she  again  ! 

Or  think  of  how  the  looked-for  child  came  then. 


BALLADS. 


223 


THE    ERLKING; 


WHO  rides  in  the  night  through  tempest  so  wild  ? 

The  father  it  is,  and  with  him  his  child  ; 

He  safely  the  young  boy  has  in  his  arm, 

He  holds  him  securely,  and  keeps  him  warm. 

u  Why  fearful,  my  son,  thy  face  dost  thou  hide  ?" — 
"  Dost,  father,  not  see  the  Erlking  by  my  side  ? 
The  Erlking  there  with  his  tail  and  his  crown  ?" — 
"  'Tis  only  a  streak  of  the  mist,  my  son." 

*  Herder  translated  from  the  Danish  a  poem  to  which  Goethe  was  in 
debted  for  the  idea  of  his  Erlkb'nig.  We  naturally  imagine  that  this 
Demon  derives  his  name  from  crle,  the  alder  tree,  and  this  was  Goethe's 
notion.  But  we  learn  from  Viehoff,  that  the  word  erl  belongs  to  the  same 
etymological  family  as  elf,  and  that  the  word  Honig  is  a  mistranslation  by 
Herder  and  Goethe,  of  the  Danish  frowe,  signifying  a  woman  ;  so  that  Erl 
konig  is  not  the  Alderking,  but  the  Fairywoman.  Dortchen  sings  the 
verses  at  the  opening  of  Die  FiscJtcrin. 


224  THE    BULKING. 

"  Thou  darling  child,  come  go  with  me  ! 
I'll  play  the  prettiest  games  with  thee  ; 
With  many  a  flower  the  strand  is  dressed, 
My  mother  has  many  a  golden  vest." 

"  My  father,  my  father,  dost  thou  not  hear, 
What  E liking  has  promised  me  in  my  ear  ?" — 
"  Rest  quiet,  my  child,  and  be  not  afraid  ; 
For  only  the  wind  with  dry  leaves  hath  played." 

"  Wilt  come,  pretty  boy,  and  go  home  with  me  ? 

My  daughters  shall  sweetly  wait  upon  thee ; 

My  daughters  a  nightly  festival  keep, 

And  shall  dance,  and  rock,  and  sing  thee  to  sleep." 

"  My  father,  my  father,  seest  thou  not 

The  Erlking's  daughters  in  yonder  dark  spot?" — 

"My  son,  my  son,  yes,  I  see  it  full  clear : 

The  hoary  old  willows  are  shining  there." 

"  I  love  thee,  and  love  thy  beauty,  sweet  boy  ; 
And  force  thee  I  must,  if  thou  art  so  coy." 


THE     ERL  KING.  225 

"  Ob  father !  he  takes  me  now  by  the  arm  ! 
The  Erlking,  father,  hath  done  me  a  harm  !" 

He  urges  his  horse  with  horror  oppressed  ; 
The  suffering  child  he  holds  to  his  breast ; 
He  reaches  the  court  with  trouble  and  dread, 
And  there  the  poor  child  in  his  arms  lay  dead. 


29 


226 


THE    BEAUTIFUL    FLOWER* 


THE    LAY    OF    THE    CAPTIVE    COUNT. 


THE     COUNT. 

A  FLOW'RET  wondrous  fair  I  know, 

For  it  rny  heart  is  sighing  ; 
To  seek  it  I  would  gladly  go, 

But  captive  here  am  lying. 
And  more  my  weary  heart  is  sad, 
That  while  in  freedom  once,  I  had 

The  flow'ret  ever  near  me. 

*  A  fruit  of  his  stay  in  Zurich,  was  the  Blumlein  WunderscJwii.  He 
probably  read  there  Tschudi's  Chronicle,  and  found  in  his  account  of  the 
so-called  Zurich  Massacre  Night,  that  the  Count  of  Habsburg — Rapper- 
swyl,  who  in  1350  joined  a  conspiracy  against  Zurich,  and  was  taken  pri 
soner,  and  locked  up  in  the  Wellenberg,  made  during  his  confinement  the 
poem  :  Ich  weiss  ein  blawes  Blumlein,  &c.  Viehoff  s  Life  of  Goethe. 


THE     BEAUTIFUL     FLOWER.  227 

Around  from  this  steep  castle  tower 

Mine  eyes  forever  hover, 
And  from  the  turret-top  the  flower 

My  sight  cannot  discover  ; 
And  who  with  it  shall  bless  my  sight, 
Be  vassal  he,  or  belted  knight, 

Shall  be  my  knightly  brother. 


THE     110  SE. 


Iii  bloom  of  beauty  hear  I  this, 
Down  here  beneath  thy  grating ; 

For  me,  the  Rose,  it  surely  is, 
Thou,  noble  knight,  art  waiting  ! 

Thou  of  a  lofty  spirit  art, 

And  surely  also  in  thy  heart 
The  garden  queen  is  mistress. 


THE     COUNT. 


Thy  crimson  in  its  emerald  fold 
We  honor  as  the  brightest ; 


228  THE     BEAUTIFUL     FLOWER. 

Aud  therefore  thou,  like  pearls  and  gold. 

The  maiden's  eye  delightest. 
The  fairest  face  enhances!  thou  : 
But  thou  art  not  the  flower,  I  trow, 

That  silently  I  honor. 

THE     LILY. 

A  haughty  heart  hath  yon  proud  Eose, 
Her  head  she  boldly  raises  ; 

But  ever  from  the  maiden  flows 
The  Lily's  meed  of  praises. 

Wherever  beats  within  its  shrine 

A  heart  as  true  and  pure  as  mine. 
The  Lily  there  is  dearest. 

T  II  K     C  0  U  X  T. 

I  know  my  soul  is  chaste  and  pure, 
And  free  from  evil  feeling  ; 

And  yet  a  dungeon  must  endure, 
A  sorrow  never  healing. 

Thou  art  to  me  a  type,  in  sooth, 


THE     BEAUTIFUL     FLOWER.  22i 

Of  maiden  purity  and  truth ; 
But  still  I  know  one  dearer. 


THE     FIX  K. 

That  other  then  the  Pink  must  be, 
Here  in  the  keeper's  garden, 

With  so  much  care,  how  else  on  me 
Would  wait  the  aged  warden  ? 

I  dwell  among  a  leafy  throng, 

And  scent  the  air  the  whole  day  long, 
Amidst  a  thousand  colors. 

THE     COUNT. 

The  Pink  a  man  may  not  despise, 
The  gardener  dear  regards  it ; 

Sometimes  it  in  the  sunlight  lies, 
Then  from  the  sun  he  guards  it. 

But  that  which  makes  my  heart  to  glow 

Is  not  a  vain  and  splendid  show : 
It  is  a  gentle  flow' ret. 


230  THE     BEAUTIFUL     FLOWER. 

THE      VIOLET. 

I  stand  concealed  and  modest  here, 
To  speak  I  am  not  willing  ; 

Yet  right  it  is  that  I  declare 

What  thoughts  my  mind  are  filling. 

If  I  am  it,  thou  worthy  heart, 

I  grieve  that  I  cannot  impart 
To  thee  my  grateful  fragrance. 


THE     COUNT. 


The  gentle  Violet  much  I  prize  : 

It  is  a  modest  blossom  ; 
But  it  cannot  the  bitter  sighs 

Relieve,  that  fill  my  bosom. 
But  this  to  all  I  will  confide  : 
Upon  this  mountain's  rock}7  side 

Cannot  be  found  my  darling. 

But  strays  below,  the  streamlet  nigh, 
The  truest  wife  in  anguish, 

And  softly  utters  many  a  sigh, 
While  I  a  captive  languish. 


THE     BEAUTIFUL     FLOWER.  231 

When  she  the  "blue  flower  breaks  with  thought 
Of  me,  and  says:  Forget  me  not! 
I  in  the  distance  feel  it. 

Yes,  far  away  is  felt  love's  might, 

When  heart  to  heart  is  cleaving ; 
I,  therefore,  midst  the  dungeon's  night 

Am  still  among  the  living. 
And  when  'most  breaks  my  heart  my  lot, 
I  only  cry :  Forget  me  not ! 

And  love  aain  restores  me. 


THE     VIOLET* 


A  VIOLET  on  a  meadow  grew, 
A  modest  flower,  whom  no  one  knew, 
A  charming  thing  in  robe  of  blue. 
A  shepherd  maid  came  gaily  by, 
With  heedless  step,  and  laughing  eye, 
That  way,  that  way 
She  came,  singing  a  song. 

a  Ah,  were  I  but,"  the  violet  thought, 
"  The  fairest  flower  that  Mature  wrought ! 
"  Ah !  but  an  hour  the  gift  is  sought, 

*  This  pretty  poem  is  introduced  into  the  Lustspiel,  Erwin  und  Elmire, 
where  the  slighted  lover  of  Elmire  is  likened  by  her  (now  repentant)  to 
the  violet  in  the  song. 

It  was  written  during  the  earlier  part  of  the  poet's  acquaintance  with 
Lili. 


THE     VIOLET.  233 

"  Until  the  maid  hath  plucked  and  pressed 
"  Her  violet  lover  on  her  breast ! 

u  Ah  but,  ah  but 

"  One  little  moment  long  !" 

Alas  !  alas  !  the  maiden  passed, 
Xor  on  the  flower  a  thought  she  cast, 

O 

And  crushed  the  gentle  thing  at  last. 
It  sank  and  died,  rejoicing  yet, 
That  death  it  through  the  maid  had  met, 

Through  her,  through  her, 

Yea,  even  at  her  feet. 


30 


234 


TRAVELLER  AND  PEASANT  MAID. 


HE. 


CANST  thou,  fair,  unequalled  peasant  maid, 
Here  beneath  this  linden's  spreading  shade, 
Where  the  wanderer  finds  a  moment's  ease, 
Thirst  and  appetite  with  food  appease  ? 


SII  E. 


Wilt  thou,  traveller,  here  thy  strength  recruit, 
Curdled  cream,  and  bread  thou'lt  have,  and  fruit ; 
Thou  canst  only  have  the  simplest  fare, 
At  the  very  source  in  plenty  here. 


Memory  seems  to  know  thce,  as  I  gaze, 
Unforgotten  grace  of  precious  days  ! 


TRAVELLER     AND    PEASANT     MAID.  235 

Oftentimes  I  likenesses  have  seen  ; 

But  none  like  this  where'er  I  have  been. 


SHE. 

Scarcely  strangely  meets  the  wanderer's  eyes 
Oftentimes  a  soon-explained  surprise. 
Oft  alike  the  blond  and  brown  appear ; 
Beauty's  charm  they  both  alternate  wear. 


~Not  to-day  did  first  my  heart  indeed 
Beauty's  homage  to  this  form  concede! 
Then  it  was  the  brightest  star  of  all, 
In  the  decorated  festal  hall. 


SHE. 


If  it  please  thee,  then  it  well  may  chance 
That  I  join  in  thy  jocose  romance: 
Yes,  in  purple  silk  her  form  was  dressed, 
When  upon  her  first  thine  eyes  did  rest. 


236  TRAVELLER     AND     PEASANT     MAID. 

HE. 

No,  indeed,  that  didst  tliou  not  devise  ! 
Thee  of  that  some  spirit  might  apprize ; 
Thou  hast,  too,  of  jewels  known  perchance, 
And  of  pearls  that  perished  at  thy  glance. 

SHE. 

One  thing,  too,  confided  was  to  me  : 
That  the  fair  one,  thee  again  to  see 
In  hope  (I'm  with  shame  confessing  filled), 
Many  a  castle  in  the  air  did  build. 

HE. 

Drove  me  here  and  thither  every  storm  ! 
Gold  and  honor  sought  in  every  form  ! 
But  how  blessed,  now  my  wanderings  o'er, 
I  the  noble  image  find  once  more  ! 

S  H  E. 

Not  an  image — thine  eyes  truly  rest 
On  the  daughter  of  the  dispossessed ; 


TRAVELLER     AND     PEASANT     MAID.  237 


And,  as  tenants  on  the  lost  estate, 
Happy  Helen  and  her  brother  yet. 


HE. 


But,  on  this  magnificent  abode 
Hath  the  owner  no  regard  bestowed  ? 
Fertile  fields,  and  meads,  and  pasturings, 
Breezes  heavenly  mild,  and  gushing  springs. 


SHE. 


Through  the  world  he  hath,  however,  run  ! 
Much  the  orphans  have  by  labor  won  ; 
We  the  lands  will  buy,  if,  as  is  said, 
He  that  owns  them  should,  indeed,  be  dead. 


HE. 

Lovely  friend !  they  will,  indeed,  be  sold  ; 
By  the  owner  I  the  terms  was  told ; 
But  in  nowise  trifling  is  the  price, 
For  nought  less  than  Helen  will  suffice  ! 


238  TRAVELLER     AND     PEASANT     MAID. 

SHE. 

Rank  and  wealth  for  us  could  not  suffice ! 
Love  hath  then  imagined  this  device  ? 
See  !  my  noble  brother  now  returns ; 
\Vhat  can  he  think,  when  of  this  he  learns? 


239 


THE    DANCE    OF    THE    DEAD. 


THE  warder  looks  out  in  the  depth  of  the  night 

On  the  graves  in  a  row  as  they  lay ; 
The  moon  has  on  everything  flooded  its  light, 

And  the  churchyard  as  bright  is  as  day. 
There  moves  now  a  grave,  and  another  one  then  : 
And  forth  they  are  coming,  the  women  and  men, 
In  their  white  and  encumbering  shrouds. 

And  stretching  themselves  in  a  merry  uproar, 

For  a  dance  now  the  skeletons  crowd, 
The  old  and  the  rich,  and  the  young  and  the  poor ; 

But  their  dancing  is  clogged  by  the  shroud. 
And  bashfulness  ruling  no  longer  the  dead, 
They  shake  themselves  all,  and  there  scattered  and  spread 
On  the  hillocks  the  winding-sheets  lie. 


240  THE     DANCE     OF     THE     DEAD. 

And  thigh-bone  and  leg  now  a  tottering  go, 

As  if  mad  is  each  gesture  and  trick ; 
And  clicking  and  clacking,  the  bones  move  as  though 

'Tvvere  the  beating  of  time  with  a  stick. 
Their  antics  they  seem  to  the  warder  so  queer  ! 
Then  whispers  the  tempter,  the  rogue,  in  his  ear : 
"  Go  !  and  carry  a  winding-sheet  off." 

'Tis  thought  and  'tis  done,  and  he  now  in  his  flight 

To  the  church  must  for  safety  proceed. 
And  still  there  the  moonlight  is  beaming  so  bright 

On  the  hideous  dance  that  they  lead. 
But  this  one  and  that  one  at  last  disappear, 
One  after  another  they  sneak  on  their  gear, 
And  they  quickly  are  under  the  sod. 

But  one  of  them  tumbles  and  stumbles  behind, 
And  he  gropes  at  the  graves  here  and  there ; 

But  none  ot  his  comrades  has  been  so  unkind ; 
And  his  sheet  he  soon  snuffs  in  the  air. 

He  shakes  at  the  door,  and  it  dashes  him  back ; 

The  warder  is  saved  from  the  goblin's  attack 

By  the  crosses  of  brass  on  the  door. 


THE     DANCE     OF     THE     DEAD.  241 

His  shroud  lie  must  have,  and  th'  advance  of  the  night 

For  reflection  affords  him  no  time  ; 
The  old  Gothic  ornaments  seizes  the  wight, 

And  aloft  he  begins  now  to  climb. 
All,  now  the  old  warder,  poor  fellow,  is  lost ! 
From  volute  to  scroll  onward  reaches  the  ghost, 
Like  a  long-legged  spider  he  moves. 

The  warder  is  shaking  and  pallid  with  fear, 

And  would  gladly  restore  what  he  took. 
But  falling,  the  corner — his  end  now  is  near — 

Of  the  garment  has  caught  on  a  hook. 
Already  is  wraning  the  light  of  the  moon, 
The  clock  thunders  out  a  loud  powerful  OXE, 
And  the  skeleton  dashes  below. 


242 


THE  YOUTH  AND  THE  MILL-STREAM. 


THE     YOUTH. 


WHERE,  crystal  rivulet,  dost  thou  flow 

So  gaily  ? 
Thou  hastest  gladly  on  below 

Still  daily. 

What  is't  thou  seekest  in  the  vale  ? 
Hearken,  and  let  me  hear  thy  tale. 


THE     BROOK. 


I  was  a  streamlet  once,  my  friend, 

Free  flowing ; 
They've  cramped  my  course,  that  I  should  send, 

In  going, 

My  waters  yonder  wheel  to  lift, 
And  therefore  am  I  full  and  swift. 


THE     YOUTH     AND     THE     MILL-STREAM.  243 


THE     YOUTH. 


Quick  to  the  mill  with  thoughtless  heart 

Thou  flowest, 
ISTor  what  I  feel  the  while  we  part 

Thou  knowest. 

Sometimes  perchance  doth  kindly  look 
The  miller's  maid  upon  the  brook  ? 

THE     BROOK. 

At  early  dawn  she  opes  the  mill, 

And  cometh 
To  bathe  her  sweet  face  in  the  rill, 

That  foameth. 

Her  bosom  is  so  full  and  white, 
It  warms  almost  to  steam,  the  sight. 

THE     YOUTH. 

If  make  e'en  of  the  stream  she  can 

A  lover ; 
What  peace  may  then  a  fervid  man 

Discover  ? 


244  THE     YOUTH     AND     THE     MILL-STREAM. 

If  only  once  the  maid  is  seen, 
Her  wilt  thou  ever  seek,  I  ween. 


THE     BROOK. 


Then  headlong  on  the  wheel  I  dash 

Loud  pouring, 
The  floats  now  in  the  water  splash 

"With  roaring. 

When  works  the  maid  herself  at  length, 
The  water  gathers  better  strength. 

THE     YOUTH. 

The  sorrows  feeleth  not  thy  breast, 

That  grieve  me  ? 
She  smiles  upon  thee,  then  with  jest, 

Says,  "  Leave  me  !" 

And  sometimes  dost  thou  backward  move, 
Enticed  by  some  sweet  look  of  love  ? 


THE     BROOK. 


From  near  her  'tis  so  hard,  so  hard 
The  going : 


THE     YOUTH     AND     THE     MILL-STREAM. 

I,  winding  through  the  mead,  retard 

My  flowing ; 

And  if  the  choice  with  me  hut  lay, 
I'd  soon  go  o'er  again  the  way. 


THE     YOUTH. 


Now,  sharer  of  my  passion,  I 

Go  sadly  ; 
Perchance  thou  soon  wilt  murmur  hy 

More  gladly. 

Go  thou,  and  oft  the  maid  apprise, 
For  what  the  youth  in  silence  sighs. 


24G 


DISTANT    INFLUENCE. 


THE  Queen  she  stands  in  her  lordly  hall, 

Midst  hundreds  of  candles'  display  ; 
And  quickly  flies  her  page  at  her  call, 
To  bring  her  her  purse  for  the  play  : 
"  It  just  to  your  hand 
Doth  on  my  table  stand." 
And  the  youth  not  a  moment  remained, 
And  the  end  of  the  castle  soon  gained. 

And  near  the  Queen  her  sherbet  there  sips 

Of  ladies  the  loveliest  there. 
The  cup  now  broke  so  close  to  her  lips, 
The  sight  it  was  painful  to  bear. 
Embarrassed,  annoyed, 
And  her  court-dress  destroyed, 


DISTANT     INFLUENCE.  247 

Not  a  moment  the  lady  remained, 
And  the  end  of  the  castle  soon  gained. 

The  youth  on  his  way  now  hastening  came, 

And  met  with  the  beauty  in  tears : 
Now  to  no  one  'twas  known  what  a  flame 
There  burnt  in  those  bosoms  of  theirs  ; 
Oh,  how  fortunate  ! 
Oh,  what  auspicious  fate  ! 
One  another  they  clasped  breast  to  breast, 
And  midst  kisses  they  heart  to  heart  pressed. 

But  at  last  they  have  parted  unseen  ; 

To  her  chamber  she  to  retreat ; 
While  the  page  presses  on  to  the  queen, 

Through  swords  and  through  fans  to  her  feet. 
The  queen  ascertained 
That  his  doublet  was  stained  : 
Every  secret  to  her  did  unfold, 
Like  the  Princess  of  Sheba  of  old. 

To  the  chief  of  her  ladies  she  cried  : 
"But  recently  we  did  contend, 


DISTANT     INFLUENCE. 

And  you  firmly  the  spirit  denied 
Afar  could  its  influence  send  ; 

That  Presence  alone 

By  its  traces  was  known  ; 
And  that  nothing  could  work  from  afar, 
No,  not  even  in  the  heavens  a  star. 

"  Now  behold  !     But  just  now  at  my  side 

The  delicate  sherbet  \vas  spilled, 
And  at  once  at  a  distance  so  wide 

With  stains  the  boy's  doublet  is  filled. 
Another  go  buy  ! 
And  because  now  that  I 

Have  been  pleased  that  my  proof  it  supplied, 
At  my  cost,  lest  your  parents  should  chide." 


249 


GOODMAN    AND    GOODWIFE* 


TO-MORROW  falls  St.  Martin's  feast, 

And  Goody  loves  her  man  ; 
And  so  for  him  she  puddings  makes, 

And  bakes  them  in  the  pan. 

In  bed  they  both  are  lying  now, 

The  driving  west  winds  roar  ; 
And  to  his  wife  old  G after  says, 

"  Go  fasten  you  the  door." 

"I'm  rested  scarce,  and  barely  warmed, 
How  so  should  I  repose  ? 

*  Goethe  showed  Eckermann  an  engraving  from  a  picture  by  Ostade. 
representing  the  interior  of  a  peasant  dwelling,  which  contained  only  one 
room.  "  Here,"  said  Goethe,  "you  have  the  scene  of  our  Goodman  and 
Goodwife."  Eckermann, 


250  GOODMAN     AND     GOODWIFE. 

And  clapped  it  for  a  hundred  years, 
The  door  I  would  not  close." 

They  thereupon  a  bargain  struck 

Quite  softly  in  their  ear, 
That  one  the  bolt  should  push,  from  whom 

They  first  a  word  should  hear. 

At  midnight  came  two  travellers, 

O 

And  knew  not  where  they  were  ; 
The  lamp  was  out,  the  hearth  was  dead, 
They  nought  could  see  nor  hear. 

"  Is  then  the  cursed  place  bewitched  ? 

All  patience  here  we  lose  !" 
But  ne'er  their  ears  a  whisper  reached, 

For  which  the  door  accuse. 

They  eat  the  puddings,  black  and  white, 

And  all  old  Goody  heard  ; 
And  much  she  to  herself  did  say, 

But  not  aloud  a  word. 


GOODMAN     AND     GOOD  WIFE.  251 

Says  one,  "  My  throat's  so  very  dry, 

I  wish  we  had  some  schnapps ! 
In  the  open  press  that  smells  so  well, 

Some  may  be  found  perhaps. 

"  A  little  flask  I  thence  will  bring, — 

How  handy  it  is  there  ! 
I'll  pass  to  you,  and  you  to  me, 

And  soon  our  strength  repair." 

But  furious  sprang  old  Gaffer  up, 

And  thus  did  threatening  say, 
"  "Whoe'er  it  be,  that  drank  my  schnapps, 

For  it  shall  dearly  pay  !" 

And  now  old  Goody  gave  three  leaps, 

As  lively  as  a  colt : 
"  Old  Gaffer,  you  have  spoken  first, 

So  you  the  door  go  bolt." 


25: 


THE    FISHERMAN* 


THE  water  rushed,  the  water  swelled, 

There  sat  a  fisher  there  ; 
His  angle  calmly  he  beheld, 

Cool  to  his  heart  e'en  near. 
And  lurking  by  the  water  side, 

Behold !  it  upward  parts  ; 
And  from  the  agitated  tide 

There  forth  a  mermaid  starts. 

She  sang  to  him,  and  thus  she  'gan : 

"  Why  lurest  thou  my  brood, 
With  wit  of  man,  and  craft  of  man, 

Up  here  to  death  delude  ? 

"••  Goethe  said:  "  The  ballad  merely  expresses  the  delightful  sensation 
of  the  water,  which  in  summer  entices  us  to  bathe.  There  is  nothing- 
more  in  it," — Eckermanrts  Conversations,  1823. 


THE     FISHERMAN.  253 

Ah  !  knewest  thou,  what  days  below 

The  little  fishes  see, 
E'en  as  thou  art,  thou  down  wouklst  go, 

And  then  wouldst  happy  be. 

"  Doth  not  the  sun  himself  restore, 

The  moon  not  in  the  main  ? 
Returns,  refreshed,  their  face  once  more 

Not  doubly  lovely  then  ? 
Lures  not  the  deep,  deep  heaven  thee, 

The  sea-reflected  blue  ? 
Thine  own  young  face,  which  thou  dost  sec, 

Down  in  th'  eternal  dew?" 

The  water  rushed,  the  water  swelled, 

And  wet  his  naked  feet ; 
His  heart  grew  so  with  longing  filled, 

As  him  his  love  did  greet. 
She  sang  to  him  his  heart  to  win  ; 

To  struggle  now  was  vain  : 
Half  drew  she  him,  half  sank  he  in, 

And  ne'er  was  seen  again. 


254 


THE   TRUSTY   ECKART.* 


"  On,  would  we  were  further;  oh,  were  I  at  home  ! 
They  come,  they  are  coming,  who  through  the  night  roam  ; 

The  terrihle  sisters  are  coming. 
They  hither  are  roving,  will  meet  with  us  here, 

'""  ''  The  old  German  heroic  lays  sing  of  the  trusty  Eckart,  who  remained 
long  in  the  memory  of  the  people,  on  account  of  his  integrity.  He  was  a 
duke  in  Breisgau,  and  lord  in  Alsace,  of  the  race  of  the  Harlunge ;  and 
was  guardian  of  two  young  Harlunge,  nephews  of  the  Emperor  Ermenrich, 
and  cousins  of  the  renowned  Dietrich  von  Bern.  Ermenrich  murdered 
the  youths,  whom  Eckart  avenged.  The  Harlunge  had  a  great  treasure, 
which  was  hidden  in  a  mountain  by  enchantment,  and  the  place  of  deposit 
was  guarded  by  the  spirit  of  Eckart,  who  warned  away  any  that  attempted 
to  remove  it ;  for  it  was  to  come  at  last  to  the  rightful  heir.  But  whether 
that  be  the  same  Eckart  who  sits  before  the  mountain  cavern  in  Thurin- 
gia,  and  goes  about  warning  others  against  the  '  furious  host,'  is  hidden 
in  the  obscurity  of  the  old  traditions." — Bechsteiii's  Sagenbuch,  No.  2i). 

The  story  given  by  Goethe  may  be  seen,  with  but  little  variation,  in 
JiecJislein,  No.  501. 


THE     TRUSTY     ECKART.  255 

They  come,  and  will  drink  up  the  weary-brought  beer, 
And  leave  us  the  pitchers  but  empty." 

The  children  cling  close,  and  so  mutter  their  fears ; 
When  there  an  old  fellow  before  them  appears  : 

"  Ye  children,  now  only  be  quiet ! 
The  good  folks  are  coming  athirst  from  the  chase, 
And  give  them  to  drink  of  your  beer  with  good  grace, 

Then  friendly  will  be  the  unfriendly." 

'Tis  done  as  he  said,  and  the  Horror  draws  nigh, 
And  dark  and  so  shadowy  look  as  they  fly, 

And  famously  lap  up  and  swallow. 
The  pitchers  are  empty,  the  beer  is  all  gone ; 
The  furious  troop*  are  now  hurrying  on, 

Along  the  wide  valley  and  mountain. 

The  children  go  homeward  in  haste  and  forlore, 
When  joins  them  the  honest  old  fellow  once  more  : 

*  The  superstition  of  "Das  wiithende  Heer,"  is  found  in  many  forms  in 
various  parts  of  Germany.  They  were  Furies,  who  rushed  through  the 
air  at  night,  with  the  sound  of  horns  and  hounds,  and  injuring  all  who 
fell  in  their  way. — See  Bechstein,  Nos.  026  and  730. 


256  THE     TRUSTY     ECKART. 

"Ye  darlings,  now  don't  ye  go  weeping." — 
"  A  scolding  we'll  get,  and  a  whipping  to-night." — 
"  No,  never  a  bit  of  it,  all  will  be  right, 

Just  only  be  silent  and  listen. 

"  And  he  who  advises  and  bids  you  obey, 
"Tis  he  who  delights  with  the  children  to  play, 

The  faithful  old  fellow,  old  Eckart. 
Ye  often  have  heard  of  the  wonderful  elf; 
Though  none  of  you  ever  hath  seen  him  himself, 

But  here  is  the  proof  now  before  you." 

They  come  to  the  house,  and  the  pitchers  they  place 
Before  the  old  people,  with  diffident  face, 

And  look  for  the  whipping  and  scolding. 
But  see  !  they  are  tasting :   what  excellent  beer ! 
Again  and  again  to  the  jugs  they  repair, 

And  still  there's  no  end  of  the  pitcher! 

The  marvel  endures  to  the  dawn  of  the  day ; 
But  ask  them,  the  old  ones,  as  much  as  they  may : 
"Pray,  what  to  the  pitchers  has  happened?" 


THE     TRUSTY     ECKART.  257 

The  young  ones  delighted,  have  nothing  to  say ; 
But  falter  at  last,  and  the  secret  betray, 
And  presently  dry  are  the  pitchers. 

And  if  now,  ye  children,  with  countenance  true, 
A  father,  or  teacher  speaks  ever  to  you, 

Then  hearken,  and  follow  him  strictly ! 
And  though  the  tongue  painfully  lie  in  its  hood, 
To  bahhle  is  harmful,  and  silence  is  good ; 

Then  fills  up  the  beer  in  the  pitchers. 


33 


258 


THE    RUINED    CASTLE. 


THERE  stands  upon  that  mountain  crag 

An  ancient  castle  in  decay, 
"Where  once  behind  the  gate  and  door 

There  knight  and  horse  in  ambush  lay. 

But  door  and  postern  now  are  burnt, 
And  everywhere  it  is  so  still ; 

And  o'er  the  crumbling  ruins  now 
I  clamber  where  it  suits  my  will. 

A  cellar  full  of  precious  wine 

Close  by  this  very  spot  there  lay ; 

But  with  the  tankards  no  more  comes 
The  smiling  cellar-maid  to-day. 


THE     RUINED     CASTLE.  259 

The  goblets  now  the  maid  hath  ceased 

The  gathered  guests  to  set  before, 
And  for  the  priest,  at  holy  feast, 

The  chalice  she  fills  up  no  more. 

The  wanton  squire  the  cup  she  hands 

No  more  upon  her  way,  I  wis, 
And  for  the  passing  gift  the  maid 

No  more  receives  the  passing  kiss. 

For  beams  and  rafters  every  one 

Were  long  ago  to  ashes  burned, 
And  chapel,  stairs,  and  corridor 

To  ruins  and  to  rubbish  turned. 

But,  as  with  flask  and  music,  I 

Up  to  this  castle's  rocky  site, 
Upon  a  lovely  summer  day 

With  her,  my  darling,  scaled  the  height ; 

A  merry,  cheerful  sound  there  sprung 

From  out  the  ruin's  desert  rest, 
And  like  the  olden  days  there  rung 

Again  the  merry  laugh  and  jest ; 


260  THE    RUINED     CASTLE. 

As  ready  were  the  stateliest  rooms 
Some  noble  guests  to  entertain, 

As  though  from  out  that  brave  old  time 
A  fiancee!  pair  had  come  again  ; 

As  though  within  the  chapel  there 
The  worthy  priest  already  stood, 

And  asked,  if  we'd  each  other  take, 
And  smiling,  we  then  said  we  would ! 

And  then  to  deeply  moving  songs 

That  flow  from  hearts  whose  depths  rejoice, 

There  listened  'stead  the  ancient  throngs, 
The  echo's  oft- rep  eating  voice. 

And  as  again  towards  the  eve 

The  song  and  happy  laugh  were  past, 

His  rays  the  glowing  setting  sun 
Up  to  the  rugged  summit  cast. 

And  bright  the  squire  and  maiden  shine, 
As  lord  and  lady  far  and  near ; 

The  cup  unhurried  offers  she, 
And  he  unhurried  thanks  her  there. 


THE    WIZARD'S    APPRENTICE.* 


GONE  the  hoary  wizard  now 

Has  for  once  from  home  away  ! 
And  his  spirits  now  shall  bow 
All  to  me,  and  service  pay  ; 
Word  I've  marked  and  charm, 

Watched  his  practice  too, 
And  with  spirit  arm 
Wonders  I  will  do. 

Hasten  !  Haste ! 
Haste  away, 
That  there  may 
Water  pour, 

Richly  streaming  e'en  to  waste 
For  the  bath  flow  more  and  more. 

*  The  story  is  in  Luciarrs  Lie  fancier,  where  no  doubt  Goethe  found  it 
through  Wieland's  translation. 


2G2  THE     WIZARD    S     APPRENTICE. 

Come,  old  broom,  thy  work  begin  ! 
Here,  this  ragged  garment  take ; 
Servant  thou  long  time  hast  been  ; 
Now  I'll  thee  my  servant  make  ! 
Come,  on  two  legs  stand, 
Head  at  top  be  placed, 
Down  now  to  the  strand 
With  the  bucket  haste. 

Hasten  !  Haste ! 
Haste  away, 
That  there  may 

Water  pour, 

Bichly  streaming  e'en  to  waste 
For  the  bath  flow  more  and  more. 

To  the  bank  he  runs  amain  ; 

At  the  stream  he  is,  I  swear, 
Quick  as  lightning  back  again 
With  the  water  he  is  here ; 
Twice  already  gone ! 

How  the  basin  swells  ! 
Every  pail  anon 
He  with  water  fills  ! 


263 


Done  !  Have  done  ! 
Water  thou 
Hast  enow 

Hither  brought. 
Ah  !  it  will  not  cease  to  run  ! 
I've  the  magic  word  forgot ! 

Ah !  the  word  by  which  at  last 

Now  he  should  his  shape  resume. 
Ah,  he  runs  and  brings  so  fast! 

Would  thou  wert  again  the  broom  ! 
Still  the  waters  gush, 

Which  he  brings  so  quick, 
And  upon  me  rush 

Torrents  fast  and  thick. 

This  can  I 
Not  allow ; 
Seize  him  now ! 
What  a  trick  ! 
Ah,  with  what  a  fearful  eye 
On  me  glares  the  fiend  stick ! 


264  THE   WIZARD'S   APPRENTICE. 

Thou  accursed  child  of  hell ! 

Shall  the  house  be  wholly  drowned  ? 
Over  every  threshold  swell 
Water  floods  by  thee  unbound. 
An  atrocious  broom, 

Which  will  never  hear  ! 
Stick  !  that  shape  as  sum.  e 
Thou  before  didst  bear  ! 

Wilt  not  quit 
Spite  of  all  ? 
I  will  fall 

On  thee  quick, 
With  the  hatchet  I  will  split 

Thee  in  twain,  thou  hellish  stick ! 

There  he  trailing  comes  again  ! 

Soon  as  I  upon  thee  spring, 
Quickly,  wretch,  shalt  thou  be  slain  ; 
Hear  the  crashing  hatchet  ring  ! 
Bravely,  bravely  done  ! 
See,  he  is  in  twain  ! 


THE   WIZARD'S   APPRENTICE.  265 

Xow  my  fears  are  gone, 
Freely  breathe  again  ! 

Ah,  alas  ! 
See  each  part 
Quickly  start 
On  its  feet ! 

On  its  way  a  slave  to  pass  ! 
Heaven,  help  me,  I  entreat ! 

How  they  run  !     And  more  and  more 

Wet  it  grows  on  stairs  and  hall. 
Ah,  what  floods  of  water  pour ! 
Oh  my  master  !  hear  me  call  ! 
Ah,  my  master's  here  ! 
See,  sir,  my  dismay  ! 
Those  I  made  appear, 
£Tow  I  cannot  lay. 

"Still!     Be  still! 
'Gain  resume 
Form  of  broom  ! 

Spirits  all 

Only,  yielding  to  his  will, 
Hear  their  aged  master's  call." 

34 


PARABLES. 


269 


POESY. 


GOD  to  his  children  did  impart 

Good  Order,  Science,  Law,  and  Art, 

And  gave  to  each  celestial  grace 

The  cruel  lot  of  earth  t'  efface. 

To  earth  from  heaven  they  naked  came, 

And  knew  not  what  to  do  for  shame ; 

On  each  a  garment  Poesy  threw, 

And  thenceforth  shame  no  more  they  knew 


THE    FROGS. 


A  CERTAIN  pond  was  frozen  over ; 
The  frogs,  beneath  their  icy  cover, 
Could  no  more  freely  croak  or  leap ; 
They  dreamed,  however,  half  asleep, 
That,  by  return  of  early  spring, 
They  e'en  like  nightingales  would  sing. 
The  south  wind  came,  the  ice  was  thawed, 
And  soon  the  frogs  were  all  abroad, 
And  seated  now  around  the  shore, 
They  croaked  away  as  heretofore. 


271 


THE    BUYERS* 


ABOUT  the  apple  stall 
The  children  gathered  all, 
And  each  one  wished  to  buy ; 
With  merry  heart  and  eye 
They  take  them  from  the  heap, 
And  near  and  nearer  peep 
The  longing,  ruddy  crew  ; 

Bat  when  the  price  they  learnt, 
The  apples  down  they  threw, 

As  though  their  hands  were  burnt. 

How  he  by  buyers  would  be  sought, 

He  who  his  wares  should  sell  for  nought ! 

*  Written  by  Goethe  at  the  fair  at  Karlsbad,  1820  5  and  sent,  in  a  some 
what  different  form,  to  his  friend  Zelter,  in  a  note  of  May  2d,  of  that  year. 
—  Viehoffi  GoetJte  erlaiitert. 


272 


POEM  S. 


LIKE  painted  windows  poems  be  ! 

When  from  without  we  look  within, 
We  only  gloom  and  darkness  see  ; 

And  by  the  vulgar*  thus  'tis  seen: 
They  all  may  well  be  sullen  then, 
And  all  their  life  may  so  remain. 

But  enter  now  inside  awhile, 
"Within  the  old  cathedral  pile ; 
Now  brilliant  colors  quickly  shine, 

-•  In  the  German,  Philister.  "The  word  PJtilister  plays  a  great  part 
in  the  cant  of  our  young  academical  friends.  It  means  every  one  who  is 
no  student,  their  professors  excepted,  and  hence  has  become  an  epithet 
for  a  prosaic,  tedious,  and  awkward  fellow.  It  is  derived  from  the  bad 
Latin  word  balistarius  (the  French  belitre),  not  from  the  Philistines  of  the 
Bible,  as  some  persons  suppose." — Wolff1  s  German  Literature. 


POEMS.  273 

And  grace  and  history  combine, 
And  from  the  show  looks  out  design  ; 

O 

This,  sons  of  God,  will  you  delight : 
Lift  up  your  hearts,  and  glad  your  sight ! 


274 


LEGEND* 


THERE  met  a  holy  man,  one  day, 
Who  in  the  wilderness  had  strayed. 
A  goaten-footed  faun,  who  said : 
"  For  me  and  mine,  sir,  will  you  pray, 
That  come  to  heaven  at  last  we  may  : 
We  long  among  the  saints  t'  abide." 
To  whom  the  holy  man  replied : 
"  Precarious,  friend,  is  your  request, 
And  hard  to  grant  it  is  at  best. 
The  angels  you  can  ne'er  salute, 
For  see,  you  have  a  goaten  foot." 

--  This  story  (minus  the  asses' ears)  is  in  Sir  John  Maundeville's  Vbiayc, 
cap.  5  ;  and  a  note  on  the  place  says,  that  it  "is  in  the  Life  of  Paul  the 
Hermite,  writ,  by  St.  Jerome." 


LEGEND.  275 


The  wild  man  answered  thereupon : 
"  What  has  to  you  my  goat  foot  done  < 
Unquestioned  many  do,  I'm  sure, 
With  asses'  ears  to  heaven  soar." 


CUPID    AND    PSYCHE. 


ONCE  to  the  Muses  it  occurred 

To  Psyche,  of  the  Poet's  art 

A  thorough  knowledge  to  impart ; 
The  little  soul  still  prose  preferred. 
And  gladly  would  she  leave  her  lyre, 

E'en  on  the  sweetest  summer's  night ; 
But  Cupid  came  with  glance  of  fire, 

And  soon  her  course  was  mastered  quite. 


277 


THE    DROPS    OF    NECTAR, 


HER  favorite  when  to  gratify, 
Prometheus,  Pallas  from  on  high, 
Down  to  the  earth  a  vessel  brought, 
With  nectar  of  the  heavens  fraught, 
"With  blessings  there  his  men  to  fill, 
And  in  their  bosoms  to  instil 
The  impulse  to  artistic  skill ; 
With  hurried  step  her  way  she  took, 
That  Jove  might  not  upon  her  look ; 
And  as  the  golden  vessel  shook, 
Some  drops  of  nectar  from  it  clown 
Upon  the  emerald  earth  were  thrown, 

The  busy  bees  then  thither  flocked, 
And  all  industriously  sucked ; 


278  THE     DROPS     OF     NECTAR. 

The  active  butterfly,  too,  came 
His  little  drop  of  sweets  to  claim ; 
Thither  the  ill-favored  spider  e'en 
To  creep  and  strongly  suck  was  seen. 

Ah !  'twas  around  a  blessed  food, 
That  these  and  other  insects  stood. 
For  now  with  man  they  share  and  part 
The  fairest  of  the  blessings,  Art, 


MISCELLANEOUS. 


281 


BLIND  MAN'S    BUFF* 


OH,  sweet  Theresa !  why, 

Why  does  your  open  eye 
So  soon  to  cold  unkindness  change ! 

Your  eyes  but  just  now  bound 

Me  still  so  quickly  found : 
And  just  me,  too,  to  catch  was  strange. 

You  caught  me  with  such  sleight, 

And  held  me  then  so  tight, 
I  sank  upon  your  breast  of  snow. 

Your  eyes  were  scarce  undone, 

Ere  all  my  joy  was  gone  ; 
You  coldly  let  the  blindman  go. 

•'  This  piece,  and  JaclJs  Alive,  are  referred  by  Viehoff  to  the  period  of 
his  residence  at  Strasburg,  before  his  acquaintance  with  Friederike. 

36 


282  BLINDMAN'S   BUFF. 

He  groped  on  here  and  there, 

His  limbs  he  wrested  near, 
And  slapped  and  bantered  was  all  round, 

And  if  you  love  not  me, 

In  darkness  I  shall  be, 
Like  one  whose  eyes  are  always  bound. 


283 


JACK'S     ALIVE* 


AFTER  dinner,  we  young  folk 

Sat  us  in  the  shade ; 
Love  came  there,  and  Jack's  Alive 

Wished  to  play,  he  said. 

*  Zelter,  who  set  this  piece  to  music,  wrote  to  Goethe :  "  Something  is 
wanting  to  my  composition,  and,  I  suppose,  it  is  the  knowledge  of  the 
game."  Goethe  answered,  describing  the  game :  "  You  take  a  thin  chip 
of  wood,  or  else  a  wax  taper,  set  fire  to  it,  and  let  it  burn  awhile ;  then 
blow  out  the  flame,  leaving  the  glowing  coal ;  then  say,  as  fast  as  yon  can, 
these  words  :  — 

Stirbt  der  Fuchs,  so  gilt  der  Balg, 

Lebt  er  lang,  so  wird  er  alt, 

Lebt  er,  so  lebt  er, 

Stirbt  er,  so  stirbt  er, 

Man  begrabt  ihn  nicht  mit  der  Haut, 

Das  gereicht  ihm  zur  Ehre. 

You  now  give  the  glowing  taper  quickly  to  your  neighbor,  who  repeats  the 
same  verse,  and  so  on,  until  the  burning  coal  expires  in  some  one's  hand, 
who  must  pay  a  forfeit." — LeTimann,  Goethe's  Liebe,  dec. 


284  JACK'S   ALIVE. 

Each  of  my  companions  sat 
By  his  sweetheart's  side  ! 

Love  then  blew  the  taper  out, 
"  Here  it  is !"  he  cried. 

Each  one  as  it  glimmered,  passed 
Quickly  round  the  brand, 

Each  one  swiftly  pressed  it  on 
In  his  neighbor's  hand. 

Then  to  me  from  Dorilis 

Laughingly  it  came ; 
Scarce  my  hand  the  torch  had  touched, 

Burst  it  into  flame. 

Singes  all  my  eyes  and  face, 
Through  my  breast  it  sweeps, 

Almost  up  above  my  head 
Now  in  flames  it  leaps. 

Stamped  upon  it:  still  it  burns, 

Spite  of  all  I  strive, 
'Stead  of  dying,  here  was  Jack, 

In  my  hand,  alive. 


285 


RESCUE. 


MY  faithless  girl  from  me  had  gone, 
That  made  me  be  a  pleasure  hater; 
I  hurried  to  a  running  water, 

The  water  flowed  before  me  on. 

Despairing  there  I  stood  astound ; 

My  head  went  round  as  I  were  drunken, 
Almost  I  in  the  stream  had  sunken, 

The  world  about  me  whirled  around. 

Then  heard  I  somewhat  calling  there — 
I  turned  to  whence  the  voice  proceeded — 
A  voice  it  was  that  all  exceeded  : 

It  said  :  "  The  stream  is  deep,  beware  !" 


286  RESCUE. 

My  blood  then  bounded  through  my  heart, 
A  maiden  'tis  with  look  of  pity  ; 
I  ask  her  name,  she  answers  :  "Kitty  !" 

Oh,  lovely  Kate,  how  kind  thou  art ! 

From  death  thou  hast  delivered  me, 
I'll  thank  thee  for  my  life  forever ; 
But  then  I  that  shall  value  never, 

Unless  my  life's  delight  thou'lt  be  ! 

I  told  her  of  my  sorrow  then, 

She  downward  cast  her  eyes  discreetly ; 
I  kissed  her,  and  she  kissed  me  sweetly, 

And — not  a  word  of  death  again. 


287 


YANITAS!   VANITATUM  VANITAS! 


ON  nothing  I  have  set  my  heart, 

Hurrah  ! 
I've  so  in  life  a  glorious  part ; 

Hurrah  ! 

And  comrade  who  will  be  of  mine, 
Must  lend  a  hand,  with  me  must  join, 
To  drink  these  dregs  of  wine. 

I  set  my  heart  on  goods  and  gold, 

Hurrah ! 
And  so  on  pleasure  lost  my  hold ; 

Ah!  ah! 

The  pieces  scattered  here  and  there, 
To  catch  them  if  I  scrambled  here, 
The  other  side  they  were. 


288  VANITAS!    VANITATUM    VANITAs! 

On  women  next  my  heart  I  set, 

Hurrah ! 
And  thereby  got  me  many  a  fret ; 

Ah  !  ah  ! 

Another  fere  the  faithless  sought, 
A  tiresome  time  the  constant  brought : 
The  best  could  not  be  bought. 

On  travel  then  I  set  my  mind, 

Hurrah ! 
My  country's  customs  left  behind ; 

Ah!  ah! 

But  nowhere  could  I  find  delight, 
The  fare  was  strange,  bad  beds  at  night, 
None  understood  me  right. 

I  set  my  heart  upon  renown, 

Hurrah ! 
And  see !  another  won  the  crown  ; 

Ah!  ah! 

When  honor  I  myself  had  done, 
From  all  I  envious  glances  won, 
And  satisfied  were  none. 


VANITASl    VANITATUM    VANITAs!  289 

I  set  my  heart  on  battle's  din, 

Hurrah ! 
And  many  a  victory  we  did  win ; 

Hurrah ! 

Through  hostile  lands  our  army  crossed, 
And  not  much  less  our  friends  it  cost, 
And  I  a  leg,  too,  lost. 

My  heart  on  nought  is  set,  in  fine, 

Hurrah ! 
And  now  the  wide,  wide  world  is  mine ; 

Hurrah ! 

The  feast  and  song  now  soon  must  stop ; 
But  we  must  drink  the  dregs  all  up : 
Must  drink  out  every  drop ! 


290 


OPEN    HOUSE, 


MANY  a  guest  to-day  to  see 
Round  my  board  I  wish  ! 
Ready  are  the  viands  all, 

Poultry,  game,  and  fish. 
Bidden  they  already  are, 
Here  they  said  they'd  be. 
Johnny,  go  and  take  a  look  ! 
Tell  me  whom  you  see  ! 

Pretty  maidens  I  expect, 
bought  they  know  amiss ; 

Not  that  'tis  a  pretty  thing, 
Him  they  love  to  kiss. 


OPEN     HOUSE.  29] 

They  have  been  invited  all, 
Here  they  said  they'd  be. 
Johnny,  go  and  take  a  look ! 
Tell  me  whom  you  see  ! 

Ladies,  too,  I  hope  to  see, 

Who  to  love  their  spouse, 
Grew  he  crosser  every  day, 

Still  would  keep  their  vows. 
Invitations  they  have  had, 
Here  they  said  they'd  be. 
Johnny,  go  and  take  a  look ! 
Tell  me  whom  you  see ! 

Summoned,  too,  young  gentlemen, 

ISTot  at  all  elate, 
Who  are  unassuming  still, 

Spite  their  purse's  weight. 
These  especially  I  asked, 
Here  they  said  they'd  be. 
Johnny,  go  and  take  a  look ! 
Tell  me  whom  you  see  ! 


292  OPEN     HOUSE. 

Men  I  asked,  too,  with  respect, 

Who,  except  their  wives, 
Would  upon  the  fairest  face 

Look  not  for  their  lives. 
Answered  was  the  compliment, 
Here  they  said  they'd  be. 
Johnny,  go  and  take  a  look  ! 
Tell  me  whom  you  see  ! 

Poets,  too,  I  begged  to  come, 

To  the  joy  to  add, 
Who  another's  lay  to  hear 

'Stead  their  own  are  glad. 
All  of  these  agreed  to  come, 
Here  they  said  they'd  be. 
Johnny,  go  and  take  a  look  ! 
Tell  me  whom  you  see  ! 

But  I  no  one  coming  see, 
None  are  at  their  post. 

Done's  the  soup  and  boils  away, 
Burnt  will  be  the  roast. 


OPEN     HOUSE,  293 

Too  punctilious  we  have  been, 
Now,  I  fear,  we'll  see  ! 

Johnny,  say,  what  do  you  think  ? 
No  one  here  will  be. 

Johnny,  run  and  tarry  not, 

Other  guests  go  call ! 
Each  one  as  he  is,  for  that 

Best  is  after  all ! 
Known  already  'tis  in  town, 
To  it  all  agree. 

Johnny,  open  wide  the  doors : 
How  they're  coming,  see ! 


294 


A    MULTIFORM    LOVER 


I  WOULD  I  were  a  trout, 
Swift  swimming  about ; 
And  cam'st  thou  a  fishing, 
I'd  bite  at  thy  wishing. 
I  would  I  were  a  trout, 
Swift  swimming  about. 

I  would  I  were  a  steed, 
And  worthy  thy  meed. 
Oh  were  I  a  chariot 
To  carry  thee,  Harriet ! 
I  would  I  were  a  steed, 
And  worthy  thy  meed. 


A    MULTIFORM    LOVER.  295 

I  would  that  I  were  gold, 

And  riches  untold ; 

And  went'st  thou  a  buying, 

I'd  ever  come  flying. 

I  would  that  I  were  gold, 

And  riches  untold. 

I  would  I  were  true, 

My  love  ever  new ; 

My  troth  I  would  give  thee, 

And  never  would  leave  thee. 

I  would  I  were  true, 

My  love  ever  new. 

I  would  I  were  old, 

And  wrinkled  and  cold; 

And  wouldst  thou  not  bless  me, 

It  should  not  distress  me. 

I  would  I  were  old, 

And  wrinkled  and  cold. 


296  A     MULTIFORM    LOVER. 

If  a  monkey  I  were, 

With  his  antics  so  rare  ; 

Did  anything  tease  thee, 

With  tricks  I  would  please  thee. 

If  a  monkey  I  were, 

With  his  antics  so  rare. 


Like  a  sheep  were  I  mild, 
Like  the  lion  so  wild  ; 
Like  lynxes  sharp-sighted ; 
Like  foxes  deep-sleighted. 
Like  a  sheep  wrere  I  mild ; 
Like  the  lion  so  wild. 

Whate'er  I  might  he, 
I'd  give  it  to  thee  ; 
With  princely  gifts  laden 
Should  have  me,  my  maiden, 
Whate'er  I  might  be, 
I'd  give  it  to  thee. 


A     MULTIFORM     LOVER.  297 

But  I  am  what  you  know, 
Then  take  me  just  so  ! 
Wouldst  better  discover, 
Let  make  thee  a  lover. 
But  I  am  what  you  know, 
So  take  me  just  so  ! 


38 


298 


THE    HAPPY    COUPLE. 


SEE,  since  this  April  rain, 

For  which  we  warmly  prayed, 
What  blessings,  wife,  again 

Our  meadows  now  pervade. 
Just  disappears  the  view 

Far  in  the  bluish  mist ; 
Here  love  is  ever  new, 

Here  fortune  still  a  guest. 

And  yonder,  see  that  pair 
Of  snow-white  doves,  that  go 

To  those  sunny  bowers,  where 
The  double  violets  blow. 


THE     HAPPY    COUPLE.  299 

We  first  together  bound 

The  flowers  we  gathered  there, 
And  there,  too,  first  we  found 

How  dearly  loved  we  were. 

When  from  the  altar,  dear, 

And  after  that  sweet  Yes, 
With  many  a  youthful  pair 

The  parson  saw  us  press ; 
On  us  then  rose,  and  run 

Kew  suns  and  moons  their  race. 
And  we  the  world  had  won 

Our  earthly  course  to  trace. 

And  many  another  seal 

Us  still  more  strongly  bound, 
In  woods,  upon  the  hill, 

In  groves,  on  meadow  ground, 
'Mid  ruined  walls,  in  caves, 

Upon  the  clefted  height, 
E'en  by  the  lakeside  waves 

Young  love  his  torch  did  light. 


300  THE     HAPPY     COUPLE. 

We  labored  on  content, 

And  thought  us  two  to  be  ; 
But  fate  not  so  had  meant, 

For  see  !  we  soon  were  three, 
And  four,  and  five,  and  six, 

They  sat  around  the  pot, 
And  now  our  sturdy  chicks 

Above  our  heads  have  shot. 

And  on  yon  meadow  ground 

The  newly  builded  house, 
Which  poplar  brooks  surround 

So  pleasant  looks  to  us. 
Who  is't  that  cheerful  cot 

There  for  himself  hath  made  ? 
Is't  with  his  darling  not 

Our  boy,  our  noble  Fred  ? 

Where  through  the  narrow  ghyll 
The  mountain  torrent  sweeps, 

And  foaming  by  the  mill 
Upon  the  wheel  it  leaps  : 


THE     HAPPY     COUPLE.  301 

Of  miller  maids,  we  hear 

How  beautiful  they  are  ; 
But  we've  a  child  down  there, 

That  is  more  lovely  far. 

And  where  the  grassy  green 

Is  o'er  the  churchyard  spread, 
The  hoary  pine  is  seen 

To  lift  to  Heaven  its  head ; 
Our  too  untimely  dead 

There  by  the  pine  tree  lie, 
And  from  the  grave  is  led 

To  Heaven  our  hopeful  eye. 

See  on  the  hillside  dance 

Of  flashing  arms  the  wave ! 
They  come  with  sword  and  lance 

Who  peace  their  country  gave. 
Who  is't  with  ribbon  blue 

So  proudly  steps  before  ? 
I  thought  our  child  I  knew, 

So  comes  our  Charles  once  more. 


302  THE     HAPPY    COUPLE. 

And  to  the  bride  now  straight 

Her  dearest  guest  is  led ; 
When  peace  they  celebrate 

Her  lover  she  shall  wed  ; 
The  wedding  dance  to  grace 

Shall  youth  and  maiden  press, 
And  then  our  darling's  face 

With  garlands  thou  shalt  dress  ; 

With  flute  and  flageolet 

The  time  again  be  here, 
When  in  the  dance  we  met 

A  young  and  joyous  pair, 
And  ere  the  year  be  gone, 

What  raptures  through  me  glow  ! 
With  grandson  and  with  son* 

We'll  to  the  christening  go. 

*  The  natural  meaning  seems  to  be,  that  they  will  accompany  the  lately 
married  son  to  the  christening  of  the  grandson ;  but  a  conversation  with 
Goethe  (Eckermann,  1828)  shows,  that  the  old  man  means,  that  his  joy 
at  his  son's  wedding  will  so  bring  back  his  young  memories,  that  he  will 
accompany  to  the  font  his  grandson,  and  a  newly  born  son  of  his  own. 


303 


THE    SPUING    ORACLE* 


OH  cuckoo,  prophetic  bird, 
With  the  early  blossoms  heard  ! 
To  a  youthful  loving  pair 
In  the  charming  early  year, 

f  The  gift  of  prophecy  was  attributed,  in  the  old  German  folkslore,  to 
the  cuckoo  above  all  birds ;  and  even  at  the  present  day,  this  superstition 
is  preserved  in  many  parts  of  Germany,  Whosoever  first  hears  the 
cuckoo's  cry  in  the  spring,  may  learn  from  it  the  number  of  years  they 
have  to  live.  In  Lower  Saxony  they  invoke  the  bird  in  these  words  : — 

Kuckuck  vam  Haven, 
Wo  lange  sail  ik  leven  ? 

And  as  many  times  as  he  cries,  so  many  years  are  allotted  to  the  ques 
tioner.  In  Sweden,  he  foretells  to  maidens  how  many  years  they  will  re 
main  unmarried. —  Goctlic  erla'dtoi. 


304  THE     SPRING     ORACLE. 

Hearken  now,  thou  sweetest  bird ; 
May  they  hope,  then  let  be  heard : 
Thy  cuckoo,  thy  cuckoo, 
More  and  more  cuckoo,  cuckoo. 

Hear'st  thou  !  an  enamoured  pair 
Gladly  at  the  altar  were  ; 
And  they  with  their  budding  youth, 
Virtue  have  and  loyal  truth. 
Tell  how  long  that  we  must  wait, 
Ere  we  may  together  mate  ! 
Hark  !  cuckoo  !  hark  !  cuckoo  ! 
All  is  still !  'twas  only  two  ! 

And  'tis  not  our  fault,  we're  sure, 
That  there  are  these  two  years  more  ! 
When  at  last  are  wedded  we, 
Will  there  pa-pa-papas  be  ? 
Know  that  we  shall  much  rejoice, 
If  we  often  hear  thy  voice. 
Once  !  cuckoo  !  twice  !  cuckoo  ! 
Still !  cuckoo !  cuckoo !  cuckoo  ! 


THE     SPRING     ORACLE.  305 

If  we  have  not  greatly  erred, 
Half  a  dozen  near  we  heard. 
If  thee  civil  words  we  give, 
Wilt  thou  say,  how  long  we'll  live  ? 
Frankly  we  confess  to  thee, 
Many  a  day  we'd  like  to  see. 
Cuckoo  !  cuckoo  !  cuckoo  ! 
Cu,  cuckoo  !  cuckoo  !  cuckoo  ! 

Life  is  like  a  festal  day, 
"When  'tis  long  upon  its  way. 
Live  we  then  together  both, 
Shall  we  keep  the  early  troth  ? 
Were  that  troth  to  ever  cease, 
All  would  fail  to  give  us  peace. 
Cuckoo  !  cuckoo  !  cuckoo  ! 
Cu,  cuckoo  !  cuckoo  !  cuckoo  ! 
In  infinitum. 

39 


306 


COPTIC    SONG.* 


LET  ye  the  learned  dispute  and  fight  on, 
Teachers  austere  and  discreet  too  may  be  ! 
All  of  the  wisest  in  times  that  are  gone 
Nod  to  each  other,  and  smile,  and  agree  : 
Foolish  to  wait  for  the  improvement  of  fools  ! 
Children  of  wisdom,  to  treat  as  your  tools 
Fools,  as  is  fitting,  be  all  of  accord  ! 

Merlin  the  old,  in  his  luminous  grave, 
Where  in  my  youth  spoken  with  him  I  have, 

*  The  celebrated  necklace  trial  afforded  Goethe  the  materials  for  an 
opera,  to  which  he  gave  the  title,  Der  Gross  Coplita,  one  of  the  names 
and  characters  assumed  by  Cagliostro.  As  intended  to  be  brought  upon 
the  stage,  several  songs  were  introduced,  which  do  not  appear  in  the  piece 
as  published  in  his  works,  where  it  is  called  a  comedy.  Among  them  were 
this  piece  and  the  one  following. 


COPTIC    SONG.  307 

Taught  me  in  answer  a  similar  word  : 
Foolish  to  wait  for  the  improvement  of  fools  ! 
Children  of  wisdom,  to  treat  as  your  tools 
Fools,  as  is  fitting,  be  all  of  accord  ! 

And  on  the  lofty  far  Indian  heights, 
Deep  too  'mid  Egypt's  mysterious  rites, 
Only  that  sacred  reply  I  have  heard  : 
Foolish  to  wait  for  the  improvement  of  fools  ! 
Children  of  wisdom,  to  treat  as  your  tools 
Fools,  as  is  fitting,  be  all  of  accord  ! 


308 


ANOTHER. 


Go  !  thy  master's  beck  obey, 
Profit  of  thy  early  days, 
"Wisdom  learn  without  delay  : 
On  the  scales  of  Fortune  stays 
Seldom  e'er  the  tongue  at  rest ; 
Rise  thou  must,  or  be  depressed, 
Rule  and  gain  must  be  for  thee, 
Or  must  learn  to  serve  and  lose, 
Triumph  must  or  suffering  choose, 
Hammer  must  or  anvil  be. 


309 


GELLERT'S   MONUMENT 

BY   OESER. 


WHEN  Gellert,  the  beloved,  slept, 

In  quiet  many  a  bosom  wept, 

And  many  a  dull  and  rugged  strain 

United  with  the  purest  pain  ; 

And  every  bungler  at  the  grave, 

A  flow'ret  for  the  laurel  crown, 

A  mite  towards  the  bard's  renown, 

With  satisfied  demeanor  gave  : 

Stood  Oeser  from  the  throng  aside, 

And  feeling  all  our  loss,  conceived 

A  lasting  form,  a  lovely  guide 

To  him,  of  whom  we  were  bereaved ; 

And  gathered,  ere  the  thought  had  flown, 

The  stammering  praises  in  the  stone, 

As  we  the  ashes  we  respect 

Do  in  a  narrow  urn  collect. 


310 


CALM   AT    SEA. 


OCEAN  rules  a  calm  profound, 
Motionless  the  waters  rest, 
And  the  seaman  all  around 
Sees  the  glassy  plain,  distressed. 
Nowhere  blows  of  air  a  breath  ! 
What  a  fearful  calm  of  death  ! 
O'er  the  vast  and  placid  plain 
Seeks  the  eye  a  wave  in  vain. 


ANACREON'S    GRAVE* 


HERE  where  blooms  the  rose,  where  vine  to  laurel  clings, 
Where  the  turtle  woos,  and  where  the  cricket  sings, 
What  sweet  grave  is  here,  that  planted  round  and  dressed 
Have  the  gods  with  life  ?     It  is  Anacreon's  rest. 
Summer,  spring,  and  autumn  happy  lived  the  bard  ; 
Xow  the  hillock  is  from  wintry  winds  his  guard. 

*  An  imitation  from  the  Greek  Anthology.    See  Bonn's  English  versions, 
page  126. 


312 


THE    BROTHERS. 


Two  brothers,  Sleep  and  Slumber,  called  the  gods  to 

attend, 

Prometheus  prayed  upon  his  children  to  descend  ; 
But,  light  to  gods,  too  heavy  for  a  mortal  frame, 
Their  Slumber  turned  to  sleep,  and  death  their  Sleep 

became. 


313 


W  A  11  N  I  N  G. 


AWAKE  not  Love  !  The  lovely  child  is  sleeping  yet; 
Thy  task  go  finish,  which  the  day  for  thee  hath  set ! 
The  prudent  mother  use  of  precious  moments  makes, 
'While  slumbers  yet  her  boy,  for  all  too  soon  he  wakes. 


40 


EPIGRAMS. 


317 


AN    ORIGINAL. 

A  QUIDAM  says  :  "  I'm  not  of  any  school ; 
The  master  liveth  not  who  is  my  rule  ; 
And  I  the  idea  also  spurn, 
That  from  the  dead  I  aught  should  learn." 
Which  means,  if  right  I  understand  his  rule 

O 

"I  am  upon  my  own  account  a  fool." 


SOCIETY. 

A  QUIET  scholar,  who  the  day  had  spent 

In  high  society,  and  homeward  went, 

"When  he  was  asked  :  Had  he  been  gratified  ? 

"  I  would  not  read  them,  were  they  hooks,"  replied, 


318 


EXAMPLE. 

IF  sometimes  I  my  patience  lose, 
Upon  the  patient  Earth  I  muse, 
Which  day  by  day,  and  year  by  year, 
Is  whirling  in  the  same  career. 
What  claim  have  I  to  better  fate  ? — 
My  dear  mamma  I'll  imitate. 


TO    THE    OBTRUSIVE. 

THEY  should  part,  who  together  can't  be  brought ! 
To  pasture  where  you  like,  I  hinder  not : 
For  I  of  old  was  born,  and  lately  ye. 
Do  what  ye  will,  so  ye  but  let  me  be  ! 


319 


RECIPROCITY. 

BUTTONED  pocket,  understand  ! 

Thee  sliall  no  one  e'er  relieve : 
Hand  is  only  washed  by  hand-; 

Wilt  thou  take,  then  thou  must  give  ! 


BROAD    AS    LONG. 

HE  who  is  modest,  must  endure, 
And  suffer  he,  who  hath  no  shame  ; 

But  whether  shameless  or  demure, 
Incur  thou  wilt  an  equal  blame. 


320 


M  E  M  E  N  T  O. 

FATE  thou  may'st  perchance  withstand, 
Though  it  often  gives  a  blow ; 

If  it  should  the  way  demand, 

Then  thou  from  the  way  must  go  ! 


A  N  O  T  H  E  E. 

THOU  must  not  thy  fate  withstand, 
Neither  from  it  shouldst  thou  flee  ! 

Meet  it  with  a  friendly  hand, 
Friendly  on  'twill  carry  thee. 


121 


RULE   OF   LIFE. 

IF  them  a  pleasant  life  wilt  lead, 
The  sorrows  past  thou  must  not  heed, 
The  smallest  thing  must  thee  annoy ; 
The  present  always  must  enjoy, 
And  chiefly  not  a  soul  must  hate, 
And  leave  to  God  the  future's  fate. 


BEHAVIOR. 

THE  freaks  of  weather  ne'er  allow, 
Or  lords,  to  overcast  thy  brow  ; 
And  thou  at  pretty  women's  fancies 

Must  show  no  discontented  glances. 
41 


322 


THE    BEST. 

WHAT  better  wilt  thou  have,  my  friend, 
If  heart  and  head  are  worried  ! 

Who  makes  of  love  and  wrong  an  end, 
Tis  time  that  he  were  buried. 


H  U  M  I  L  I  T  Y. 

WHEN  I  the  masters'  works  look  on, 
Then  see  I  that  which  they  have  done  ; 
When  to  my  trifles  then  I  turn, 
That  which  I  should  have  done,  I  learn. 


323 


NONE    OF   ALL. 

IF  ol  yourself  a  slave  you  make, 
Not  one  on  you  will  pity  take  ; 
Make  for  yourself  a  lordly  lot, 
And  still  the  people  like  it  not ; 
And  if,  in  fine,  the  same  you  stay, 
There's  nothing  in  you,  they  will  say 


STIPULATION* 

You  still  keep  on,  and  will  not  cease 
To  ask  advice,  which  I  can  give  ; 

But  then,  that  I  may  be  at  peace, 
Pray  promise,  not  by  it  to  live. 

~::~  Goethe  said :  When  one  has  looked  about  the  world  awhile,  and  sees 
how  the  wisest  projects  miscarry,  and  the  absurdest  often  succeed,  he  is 
no  longer  willing  to  give  advice.  If  one  asks  me  for  advice,  I  say  that  I 
am  ready  to  give  it,  with  the  condition,  that  he  promises  not  to  follow  it. 
Eckermann,  1831. 


324 


REVERSED. 

ARE  they  in  sorrow,  whom  we  love, 
That  truly  grieves  all  things  above  ; 
That  they  be  happy  whom  we  hate, 
We  cannot  bear  to  contemplate  ; 
Reversed,  we  wish  for  nought  beside, 
Both  love  and  malice  gratified. 


EQUALITY. 

THE  greatest  is  beyond  our  reach, 
Our  equals  only,  envy  we  ; 
The  basest  man  on  earth  is  he, 

Who,  as  his  equal,  looks  on  each. 


325 


IDEAL. 

ON  godlike  forms  the  painter  dares, 
He  hath  Ins  noblest  work  displayed ; 

But  that,  of  which  he  so  despairs  : 

The  loved  one  to  her  friend  portrayed, 

That  let  him  try  !     A  dream  will  do, 

A  phantom  will  be  welcome  too. 


PARDONABLE. 

STILL  late  and  early  comes  to  me 
The  sweetest  face,  in  thought ; 

I  think  on  her,  on  me  thinks  she, 
And  both  can  help  it  not. 


IF  fails  to  you  a  generous  heart  in  aught, 
Then  do  as  though  the  wrong  you  counted  not ; 
He'll  credit  in  his  ledger  give, 
Nor  will  he  long  your  debtor  live. 


LET  hate  and  envy  waste  away, 
The  course  of  good  they  ne'er  shall  stay. 
For  God  be  thanked  !  it  is  an  ancient  form : 
Wherever  shines  the  sun,  'tis  also  warm. 


IF  ever  thou  hast  justly  done  perchance, 
And  on  it  squints  a  foe  with  evil  glance  ; 
The  very  thing  he  soon  or  late, 
Tie  knows  not  how,  will  perpetrate. 


327 


ADMONITION. 

WILT  them  ever  further  stray, 
Whilst  thy  blessing  lies  so  near  ? 

Learn  on  it  thy  hand  to  lay, 
For  thy  c;ood  is  ever  there. 


CONTRADICTION. 

PERPLEX  me  not,  gainsaying  every  word  ! 
A  man  no  sooner  speaks,  than  he  has  erred. 


EXCUSE. 

WHY  will  you  blame  the  inconstant  woman's  freaks  ? 
Condemn  her  not.     A  constant  man  she  seeks. 


328 


FROM   THE   ZAHME  XENIEN. 

WHATEVER,  friend,  of  truth  or  fable 

In  thousand  books  may  meet  your  sight ; 

It  all  is  but  a  tower  of  Babel, 
If  love  the  whole  do  not  unite. 


"  You  in  immortal  life  believe  ; 

Pray,  tell  us  what  you  know  about  it." 
The  greatest  reason  I  can  give, 

Is  that  we  cannot  do  without  it. 


I  LOVE  to  hear  the  young  ones  prattle, 

The  new  rings  clear,  but  the  old  times  rattle. 


329 


MUCH  easier  'tis  a  wreath  to  bind, 
Than  worthy  head  for  it  to  find. 


A  SIMPLE  yes,  or  simple  no, 

If  prompt,  for  much  with  me  will 


THAN  this  could  greater  grief  be  known  ? 
To  be  in  Paradise  alone. 


IF  nought  thou  hast,  thou  bear'st  an  easy  weight, 
But  riches  are  for  all  an  easier  freight. 


IF  thou  wouldst  nothing  useless  buy, 
Rest  not  on  idle  wares  your  eye. 

42 


330 


MY  friend,  what  has  the  poor  glass  clone  you  ?     Say, 
Make  not  such  ugly  faces  at  it  pray. 


AMONG  the  mighty  deeds  is  that, 
To  fry  oneself  in  his  own  fat. 


To  live  with  me,  have  you  a  mind, 
Then  you  must  leave  your  brute  behind. 


331 


FROM    THE    XENIEN* 

FROM  aristocrats  in  rags,  ye  Gods,  remove  me  far, 
And  so  from  democrats  with  epaulet  and  star. 


THE  aristocrats  may  pass,  for  courteous  is  their  pride  ; 
But  ye,  canaille,  are  arrogant  and  coarse  beside. 


AT  beggars  aristocratic  spaniels  bark.     A  whelp 
Of  democratic  breed  at  silken  hose  will  yelp. 

*  A  title  borrowed  from  a  book  of  epigrams  of  Martial  ;  but  there  is 
nothing  in  common  between  the  old  Xenia  and  the  new.  Martial's  are 
"  peptic  precepts."  These  are  intended  to  be  caustic,  although,  for  the 
most  part,  they  are  weak  enough.  They  originated  in  a  "  vigilance  com 
mittee"  established  by  Goethe  and  Schiller  over  the  German  world  of 
letters,  which,  as  is  usual  with  such  powers,  speedily  degenerated  into  an 
instrument  of  private  literary  vengeance. 


332 


FAUST  oft  liatli  to  the  devil  sold  himself  of  yore  ; 
But  never  so  prosaic  the  bargain  struck  before.* 


OH  !  may  thy  thread  of  life  spin  on,  as  spins  in  prose 
Thy  period,  o'er  which  Lachesis  seems,  alas,  to  doze.f 


FRIEND,  once  for  all,  wilt  thou  eternal  life  procure  me, 
Still  in  the  present,  I  beseech  you,  do  not  bore  me.J 


WHAT  'tis  ye  seek  in  Heaven,  my  friends,  I  know  it  well 
Ye  only  seek  protection  from  the  flames  of  Hell. 

*  A  sneer  at  Schink's  Faust.     Boas — Xenienkampf. 
f  An  attack  on  Wieland's  style.     Ibid. 
'I  Supposed  to  be  levelled  at  Fred.  Schlcgel  or  Fred.  Stollberg1.     Ibid. 


333 


YE  scorn  the  blind  empiric  all,  when  ye  are  blest ; 
But  when  in  need,  he  is  the  Delphic  God  confessed, 


THE    EMPIRIC. 

To  say  that  ye  take  not  the  surest  path,  were  wrong 
But  on  the  smoothest  path  ye  blindly  grope  along. 


always  Error  harms;  but  e'er  'twill  hurtful  be 
To  err.     How  much,  we  at  the  journey's  ending  see. 


HE  is  my  friend,  who  working  with  me,  goes  the  way ; 
But  should  he  bid  me  rest,  at  once  farewell  I'll  say. 


To  us  are  others'  children  ne'er  as  ours  so  dear  ; 
And  Error,  our  own  child,  lies  to  our  heart  so  near ! 


334 


SUCH  manuscripts  as  mine,  nor  scholar  hath  nor  king, 
My  love,  she  writes  for  me  what  songs  for  her  I  sing. 


AN  epigram  too  short  t'  express  a  tender  thought! 
But  tell  me,  love,  if  shorter  still  a  kiss  is  not  ? 


WHAT  is  the  Holy  ?     That  which  joins  together  minds, 
Though  slight  the  bond,  e'en  as  the  rush  the  chaplet  binds. 


WHAT  is  the  Holiest  ?     That  which  deep  and  deeper  felt, 
Makes  spirits  into  one  now  and  forever  melt. 


335 


THE    CHINESE    IN    HOME* 


I  SAW  a  Chinaman  in  Rome;  the  fabrics  there 

Of  old  and  modern  days  to  him  all  cumbrous  were. 

"  Poor  things  !"  he  sighed,  "  would  God  that  they  could 

comprehend 

That  roofs  on  wooden  columns  always  should  depend  ; 
That  only  carvings,  lattice-work,  and  gilded  board 
Can  pleasure  to  the  cultivated  eye  afford." 
lie  was  the  type  of  many  a  dreamer,  who  compares 
With  Nature's  everlasting  woof  his  flimsy  wares  ; 
Who  calls  the  truly  healthful  all  diseased,  and  can 
Find  in  himself,  the  sick,  alone  the  healthful  man. 

*  The  Chinese  is  no  less  a  person  than  Jean  Paul  Frieclerich  Richter. 
Schiller  had  spoken  of  Goethe  as  "the  German  Propertius,"  and  Jean 
Paul,  referring  to  this,  wrote  to  Knebel,  "  that  in  such  stormy  times  there 
was  more  need  of  a  Tyrtasus,  than  of  a  Propertius."  Goethe  stung  by  the 
sarcasm,  repaid  it  in  these  lines.  Boas — Xenienkampf. 


C.  SHERMAN  &  SON,  PRINTERS, 
Corner  Seventh  and  Cherry  Streets,  Philadelphia. 


V. 


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